After Esther learned the details of her rescue, and of how Kenneth Hastings had again risked his life for hers, she grew abstracted, talked little, and ate less. And after she had learned that he was critically ill, delirious, as a result of the wound received in rescuing her, her sorrow became patent to all. Could she not see him? But Sister Mercy guarded her patient, and watched, and prayed the prayers of her church. Physician and nurse both knew that Kenneth's life hung by a thread. The sick man talked in his delirium; and his heart story lodged in the heart of the nurse, who watched by him, and who nursed him back to life. When Esther was able to go about on crutches, she visited her patients who were nearest to Clayton Ranch. One day Patrick Murphy called on her. "How are Brigham and Kathleen?" she asked, as she greeted him. "I hope they are better." "No betther, Miss," he said, struggling for composure. "The docther has been lavin' av his midicine, an' Carla (I mean Miss Earle) has came each day (the saints bliss her!) but still the faver is bad. An' Brigham--" He could say no more. After a while, he continued: "An' Brigham begs me ter bring yez to him. He insists upon callin' yez his Christ teacher, ma'am. He asks ivery day has yez come, an' cries wid disappointmint, whin he foinds yez are not there. I told him I would bring yez back wid me if yez could come." "I'll go with you," she promised, "as soon as I speak to Mrs. Clayton." When Esther entered the sick room at the Murphy home, she found two critical cases of typhoid fever. Their temperature was so high she was filled with alarm. She questioned the mother closely, as to what had thus far been done for the children. "Did you follow the doctor's directions?" she asked. "No, Miss, I didn't think it worth while. Back East where I wuz riz, they didn't think it necessary ter wash sick folks with sody an' water every day, an' alkyhol besides. They jest let sick folks be in peace, an' give 'em a good washin' after they was corpses." "But you see, Mrs. Murphy, we must sponge typhoid patients with water and with alcohol, to lower their temperature. Brigham's fever is very high." "I done all I could fur him," sniffled the mother. "Yes, I know," said Esther, kindly. "What has he eaten? Did you give him the beef juice?" "No, mum. That wuz no eatin' at all. I give him meat an' potatoes an' cabbage, jest the way he liked 'em cooked," she said, wiping her eyes on her apron. "He ain't eat none sence. He jest cries an' cries fur ye, Miss." "Brigham is very sick," the teacher said, gently. "He may not recover. Shall I take care of him?" "Yes, Miss, I wisht yer would."