It was a pitiful sight. The poor young father and mother--scarcely more than boy and girl--stood by, the former uttering sharp clicks with his tongue against his teeth as he watched and was tortured too in the sufferings of "the little chap," the latter literally wringing her hands and moaning with the agony of her mother's heart. They were trying every remedy without avail. There was only tracheotomy left for them to do. But the father refused his consent. Cut the fair skin of his boy? No, that they shouldn't! He was obdurate in his ignorance. Mr. H---- urged the otherwise hopelessness of the case. His words were impatient, almost angry. But still the man said, "No!" Sister Warwick drew him aside, and, taking a candle, led him along the ward to the side of a little cot where a smiling, rosy child lay sleeping sweetly. She pulled away the sheet and showed him the little silver tube in her neck. "She would not have been alive without it," she said. "She was at death's door, like your little one. It saved her life. She is going to be bonny and strong. Let Mr. H---- do what he wants. You must; you cannot say no now!" They hurried back. Was the poor little face changing? "There, do it, doctor, do it! Have your way!" The reluctant words were scarcely uttered before the clever strong hands were at work. There was immediate relief, and for a moment they believed that the little life, hanging trembling on such a tiny thread, was to be given back. But suddenly the baby hands dropped, and the little head fell back. Even then the skilful hands would not yield the battle. They persevered with artificial respiration. They tried every means, until the truth had to be faced. There was nothing more they could do. They must lay down the poor little buffeted body and let it sleep. This is always a terrible moment for doctors and nurses, and it was with a face quivering with emotion that Sister Warwick left Margaret Carden to the sacred work of tending the little lifeless form, and, leading the poor young mother to her room, took up the harder task of trying to help her in the first bitterness of her grief. Half-stunned with what had happened, the man sat in the shadows beyond the range of the light from the fire and lamp, and followed with his eyes the movements of the nurse as she went to and fro. Let us hope that he was not realising the fact that his tardy consent had perhaps cost the child its life. Mr. H---- laid a kind hand on his shoulder once, with a hearty-- "I am awfully sorry for you;" and he murmured something by way of answer. Then he rose--still half-dazed--to meet his wife who was coming out of Sister's room. They stood side by side, holding each other's hands--like the children they almost were--and looked long at the sleeping baby. Nurse Carden had taken the buttercups and grasses from one of the vases on the ward table, and the little fingers were folded round the stalks.