I know I've got this right; because, after Henry had thanked me for my question, he said I was a good preaching-stock,--that the inquiry "joggled up" his mind, and suggested just what fayed in with his sermon; and afterwards I heard him preach it; and now I have copied it out of his manuscript, and have it all correct and satisfactory. What will he do to me, if he should see this in print? But I can't help it. And what is more, I don't believe his theological stuff. If it were true, there would not so many good people be such geese. But whatever this cloud is, it now blinded and misguided me. I quietly, very quietly, put away some little moneys that lay about,--locked up nearly all my small stock of silver and my scanty jewelry,--locked my bureau-drawers,--counted unobtrusively the weekly proceeds of the washing,--and was extremely watchful against the least alteration of my manner towards my poor pretty maid. It might have been a week after this, when my husband said one morning that Bridget's eyes were heavy, and she had moved with a start several times, as though she were half-asleep. Now that he spoke, I saw it, and wondered that I had not seen it before; but I think some men notice things more quickly than women. I asked the child if she were well. "Yes, Ma'am," she said, spiritlessly, "but my head aches." I observed her; and she dragged herself about with difficulty, and was painfully slow about her dishes. At tea-time I made her lie down in my little back parlor and got the meal myself, and made her a nice cup of tea. She slept a little, but grew flushed. Next morning she was not fit to get up, but insisted that she was, and would not remain in bed. But she ate nothing,--indeed, for a day or two she had not eaten,--and after breakfast she grew faint, and then more flushed than ever; seemed likely to have a hard run of fever; and I sent for my doctor,--a homoeopath. He came, saw, queried, and prescribed. Doctor-like, he evaded my inquiry what was the matter, so that I saw it was a serious case. On my intimating as much, he said, with sudden decision,-- "I'll tell you what, Madam. She may be better by night. If not, you'd better send for Bagford. He might do better for her than I." I was extremely surprised, for Bagford is a vigorous allopath of the old school, drastic, bloody,--and an uncompromising enemy of "that quack," as he called my grave young friend. I said as much. Doctor Nash smiled.