"I lie down because my bones ache, and I have such an odd, funny feeling sometimes." And then, as Dr. Stewart questioned her jokingly about the feelings, she told him in her childish way of all manner of strange fancies and dreams that troubled her, and of the queer faintness that came over her at times; and how her cough began to hurt her: and how she got more tired and good for nothing every day. Dr. Stewart's face grew graver as he listened. When he had finished a most careful examination of the child he sat for a little while in silence, while Queenie watched him anxiously. "I am afraid he thinks Emmie very delicate," she said to herself. But she little knew Dr. Stewart's thoughts at that moment. "If she had called me in earlier I could have done nothing," he thought. "The child is in a rapid decline. I wonder if it would be more merciful to tell her so at once, or to let her find it out gradually for herself?" And being a very tender-hearted man, he inclined to the latter course. So when Emmie had been sent away on some errand, and Queenie began her anxious questioning, he answered her evasively. "Do you think her very ill? ought I to have sent for you before, Dr. Stewart?" "Well, no; I don't see what I could have done. Of course the child is very delicate--in a very bad state of health I should say; she is very fanciful and morbid too, all these imaginative children are. You must rouse her and keep her cheerful." "But was Miss Cunningham right? will the cold Spring hurt her?" "Ah, that is just what I was going to say. I don't think our northern climate agrees with her, it is too strong and bracing. You are your own mistress, why don't you take her south? Any watering-place would do--Torquay, or Bournemouth, or even St. Leonards. The change may give her a few more months," he said to himself. "Sea air! is that what she needs?" asked Queenie, with a sudden dawning of hope in her face. Dr. Stewart shifted uneasily on his seat, and did not look at her as he answered. "Well, one should always make use of every possible remedy; and of course another month of these cold winds will kill her, there is no doubt of that." "I will go at once; we will start immediately," almost gasped Queenie. "I should do so by all means. If you like, I will speak to Mr. Logan on my way home, and see if he cannot, temporarily at least, fill up your place. There was a young person Faith mentioned who would be very likely to suit. Shall I manage this for you, eh?" "I shall be greatly obliged if you will," she answered gratefully. "Then about the place, where will you decide on going? There's a friend of mine, a doctor, a sort of connection of ours, living at St. Leonards; he and his wife are very good people. If you thought of going there I would write to Bennet, and he would look after Miss Emmie."