"That is what she keeps saying over and over again," he continued, still more anxiously. "She was quite well when we left home this morning; she and her little maid were chasing each other along the lanes, pelting each other with poppies. I thought she was only tired and wanted to be carried; I can't understand this sickness and drowsiness all at once. Do you think, Miss Marriott, that it could possibly be a sunstroke?" "I don't know; her eyes certainly look very odd," returned Queenie in great perplexity. "Oh, father! Nan is so very tired," moaned the little creature again, creeping closer to his broad breast. "Ellen did say it was naughty to eat the pretty currants; but Nan is good now, only so sick." "Have you any pain, my darling?" he asked, bending over her. "No; no pain, only Nan so tired," she repeated, in the most pathetic voice. Mr. Chester looked appealingly at Queenie. "I am afraid she is very ill," she returned reluctantly, for there was a strange look about the child that alarmed her. "Emmie dear, tell Patience to go and fetch Dr. Stewart at once, and you run across for Langley." "Aye, we must have Langley," he repeated helplessly, looking down at his pet. Nan had left off her moaning and seemed sinking into drowsiness. "Will she let me undress her and lay her in Emmie's bed? she will be more comfortable than in your arms;" but, as Nan stirred uneasily and murmured "Father; Nan cannot leave father," Mr. Chester was obliged to carry her up himself. But even when he placed her on the cool pillow she still held his hand tightly. "Father will not leave his pet; don't be afraid, my darling." When Langley arrived she found him still hanging over the child. Nan seemed sleeping; her dark eyelashes swept her cheek; one small hand was folded in her father's. "This sleep will do her good. It must have been the sun that made her feel sick," he said, looking up at Langley with a relieved expression. Langley put back the long silky hair from the child's forehead, but did not answer. Some chill presentiment for which she could not account had seized her at the moment of Emmie's summons; and then, why did not Nan move when she kissed her? "I do not think this looks quite like sleep, like natural sleep, I mean. I think we ought to try to rouse her, at least till Dr. Stewart comes. Speak to her, Harry; she has never slept so soundly before." "Nan, Nan, my little one, father wants you," but, for the first time in her infant life, Nan was deaf to her father's voice. "What can we do? what are we to do? Dr. Stewart will not be home for another hour," exclaimed Queenie, now really terrified. No suspicion of the truth had entered into any of their minds. Only when it was too late did the child's speech about the pretty currants recur to her.