“No, no,” cried Johnson, clutching at his thick frieze overcoat. “We are so glad that you have come. And, doctor, please come down soon and let me know what you think about it.” The doctor passed upstairs, his firm, heavy steps resounding through the house. Johnson could hear his boots creaking as he walked about the floor above him, and the sound was a consolation to him. It was crisp and decided, the tread of a man who had plenty of self-confidence. Presently, still straining his ears to catch what was going on, he heard the scraping of a chair as it was drawn along the floor, and a moment later he heard the door fly open and some one come rushing downstairs. Johnson sprang up with his hair bristling, thinking that some dreadful thing had occurred, but it was only his mother-in-law, incoherent with excitement and searching for scissors and some tape. She vanished again and Jane passed up the stairs with a pile of newly aired linen. Then, after an interval of silence, Johnson heard the heavy, creaking tread and the doctor came down into the parlor. “That’s better,” said he, pausing with his hand upon the door. “You look pale, Mr. Johnson.” “Oh, no, sir, not at all,” he answered deprecatingly, mopping his brow with his handkerchief. “There is no immediate cause for alarm,” said Doctor Miles. “The case is not all that we could wish it. Still we will hope for the best.” “Is there danger, sir?” gasped Johnson. “Well, there is always danger, of course. It is not altogether a favorable case, but still it might be much worse. I have given her a draught. I saw as I passed that they have been doing a little building opposite to you. It’s an improving quarter. The rents go higher and higher. You have a lease of your own little place, eh?” “Yes, sir, yes!” cried Johnson, whose ears were straining for every sound from above, and who felt none the less that it was very soothing that the doctor should be able to chat so easily at such a time. “That’s to say, no, sir, I am a yearly tenant.” “Ah, I should get a lease if I were you. There’s Marshall, the watchmaker, down the street. I attended his wife twice and saw him through the typhoid when they took up the drains in Prince Street. I assure you his landlord sprung his rent nearly forty a year and he had to pay or clear out.” “Did his wife get through it, doctor?” “Oh, yes, she did very well. Hullo! Hullo!” He slanted his ear to the ceiling with a questioning face, and then darted swiftly from the room.