"It's very kind of you, Mary. I'm afraid he's not treated you so as to deserve that. And it would exhaust you dreadfully." "I'm very strong; I should like it so much. Won't you ask Jamie? He can only refuse." "Very well." Mrs. Parsons went up to her son, by whom sat the Colonel, looking at him wistfully. James lay on his back, breathing quickly, dull, listless, and apathetic. Every now and then his dark dry lips contracted as the unceasing pain of his head became suddenly almost insufferable. "Jamie, dear," said Mrs. Parsons, "Dr. Radley says you must have a second nurse, and we thought of getting one from Tunbridge Wells. Would you mind if Mary came instead?" James opened his eyes, bright and unnatural, and the dilated pupils gave them a strangely piercing expression. "Does she want to?" "It would make her very happy." "Does she know that enteric is horrid to nurse?" "For your sake she will do everything willingly." "Then let her." He smiled faintly. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good. That's what the curate said." He had sufficient strength to smile to Mary when she came up, and to stretch out his hand. "It's very good of you, Mary." "Nonsense!" she said, cheerily. "You mustn't talk. And you must do whatever I tell you, and let yourself be treated like a little boy." For days James remained in the same condition, with aching head, his face livid in its pallor, except for the bright, the terrifying flush of the cheeks; and the lips were dark with the sickly darkness of death. He lay on his back continually, apathetic and listless, his eyes closed. Now and again he opened them, and their vacant brilliancy was almost unearthly. He seemed to see horrible things, impossible to prevent, staring in front of him with the ghastly intensity of the blind. Meanwhile, Mrs. Parsons and Mary nursed him devotedly. Mary was quite splendid. In her loving quickness she forestalled all Jamie's wants, so that they were satisfied almost before he had realised them. She was always bright and good-tempered and fresh; she performed with constant cheerfulness the little revolting services which the disease necessitates; nothing was too difficult, or too harassing, or too unpleasant for her to do. She sacrificed herself with delight, taking upon her shoulders the major part of the work, leaving James only when Mrs. Parsons forced her to rest. She sat up night after night uncomplainingly; having sent for her clothes, and, notwithstanding Mrs. Clibborn's protests, taken up her abode altogether at Primpton House. Mrs. Clibborn said it was a most improper proceeding; that a trained nurse would be more capable, and the Parsons could well afford it; and also that it was indelicate for Mary to force herself upon James when he was too ill to defend himself. "I don't know what we should do without you, Mary," said Colonel Parsons, with tears in his eyes. "If we save him it will be your doing."