"You can't just now. Prue and Bertha are there, and too many nurses would be in the way. Don't you see? Nan has squeezed your poor little wrists, clumsy thing that she is!" He took one of them in his broad hand, and looked pityingly at the soft skin, reddened and swollen. "Nan!" repeated Lettice vaguely. "Oh, it doesn't matter. I only want to go to Sissie—my sister, I mean. She called me." "I wouldn't: just yet. Better not. Bertha is there." "But Nurse Valentine—" "That's Bertha. Didn't you know. Nurse Valentine is our sister. She told your sister you were all right. And the doctor's coming directly: and you couldn't do anything. You're awfully tired, are you not?—You poor little thing!" "It doesn't matter. If only I could go to Sissie!" pleaded Lettice in distress, as he led her back to the drawing room. "Now, you listen. I'll promise. If Bertha comes, and says your sister wants you, I won't keep you back. You just lie down on the sofa in this corner, and get half-an-hour's rest. And if you go to sleep, I'll wake you up—I mean, when Bertha says you're wanted. See!—Won't that do? You look as if you hadn't slept for a month past." Lettice laughed faintly. "Oh, only three or four nights. I couldn't—much." "Well, you'll sleep now. Just pull off your hat: and here's a shawl to put over you. You're to have a cup of hot tea—it's waiting now—and then a sleep: and then you'll be fit for anything. And Nan shan't come near you." "Wallace! As if I meant to hurt her!" gulped a reproachful voice. "You keep off," growled Wallace: but Lettice held out her hand. "Don't, please. Nan didn't mean anything. She won't hurt me, I know." "Well, then, bring a cup of tea, Nan: and after that, be off!" commanded Wallace. Nan obeyed humbly: nearly turned the tea over Lettice in her agitation: and stooped to kiss the wrists she had squeezed. After which she fled. Wallace watched till the cup was empty, took it away, and said— "Now go to sleep." "I must see if Sissie wants me." "Well, shut your eyes for five minutes. That'll do." Lettice obeyed so far: and as Wallace expected, she did not open them again. Two hours later Bertha asked,— "Where is that child, mother?" "Asleep on the drawing room sofa. Wallace will not leave her for a moment." "Wallace?" "He found her struggling with Nan, to get to her sister. Some one seems to have told Nan to keep her away: and I suppose Nan was rough." "Just like Nan." "Wallace can't take his eyes off her. She does look so sweet, lying there, I hardly wonder at him." "And Wallace is always gentle to anything weak. That's the best of him. I wish Nan were the same." "She has been crying for an hour, because he was angry with her." "Mother," after a pause, "it is a question whether the poor thing upstairs will get through the night." "So bad as that?" "The attack must have been coming on before she started. She might rally again; but it will be only for a time. She can never be well." "Does she know?"