"Don't tell me nothin' what the doctor said; I don't want to hear on't," said Zeph, in a high voice; and the two hoes worked on in silence for a while, till finally Zeph broke out again. "Wal! what did the doctor say? Out with it; as good say it 's think it. What _did_ the doctor say? Why don't you speak?" "He said she was a very sick woman," answered Abner. "He's a fool. I don't think nothin' o' that doctor's jedgment. I'll have Dr. Sampson over from East Poganuc. Your mother's got the best constitution of any woman in this neighborhood." "Yes; but she hasn't been well lately, and I've seen it," said Abner. "That's all croakin'. Don't believe a word on't. Mother's been right along, stiddy as a clock; 'taint nothin' but one o' these 'ere pesky spring colds she's got. She'll be up and 'round by to-morrow or next day. I'll have another doctor, and I'll get her wine and bark, and strengthenin' things, and Nabby shall do the work, and she'll come all right enough." "I'm sure I hope so," said Abner. "Hope! what d'ye say _hope_ for? I ain't a goin' to hope nothin' 'bout it. I _know_ so; she's got to git well--ain't no two ways 'bout that." Yet Zeph hurried home an hour before his usual time and met Nabby at the door. "Wal, ain't your mother gettin' better?" There were tears in Nabby's eyes as she answered, "Oh, dear! she's been a raisin' blood. Doctor says it's from her lungs. Mis' Persis says it's a bad sign. She's very weak--and she looks so pale!" "They must give her strengthenin' things," said Zeph. "Do they?" "They're givin' what the Doctor left. Her fever's beginnin' to rise now. Doctor says we mustn't talk to her, nor let her talk." "Wal, I'm a goin' up to see her, anyhow. I guess I've got a right to speak to my own wife." And Zeph slipped off his heavy cowhide boots, and went softly up to the door of the room, and opened it without stopping to knock. The blinds were shut; it seemed fearfully dark and quiet. His wife was lying with her eyes closed, looking white and still; but in the center of each pale cheek was the round, bright, burning spot of the rising hectic. Mis' Persis was sitting by her with the authoritative air of a nurse who has taken full possession; come to stay and to reign. She was whisking the flies away from her patient with a feather fan, which she waved forbiddingly at Zeph as he approached. "Mother," said he in an awe-struck tone, bending over his wife, "don't you know me?" She opened her eyes; saw him; smiled and reached out her hand. It was thin and white, burning with the rising fever. "Don't you feel a little better?" he asked. There was an imploring eagerness in his tone. "Oh, yes; I'm better." "You'll get well soon, won't you?" "Oh, yes; I shall be well soon," she said, looking at him with that beautiful bright smile.