For weeks and weeks after the terrible death of Laurens Cornwallis, the life of his sister Ruth hung on a thread. She was delirious. She cried out incessantly. "O Laurens! Laurens! beautiful angel! Come back! come back! Speak to me Laurens! Kiss me, Laurens!" They feared her brain was going. "If we could only make her think he _had_ come back," said the perplexed doctor--"create a sort of counter delusion." They tried it each in turn with no effect--the mother at last. "Oh, she does not even hear me," sobbed the mother. "Her sense of hearing must be already gone, only her sight remains. Her eyes were fixed on the door in the far end of the room, as though she expected to see him come through that door, when she calls." This gave the doctor a new idea. "Then we must _have_ some one that looks like him come through that door, in response to her call--some one that knew him and loved him and would be in full sympathy with her in regard to his death." "Ralph Norwood!" exclaimed Mr. and Mrs. Cornwallis in the same breath. "And he must have the kite in his hand," said Mr. Cornwallis. "Yes, and I must make him a George Washington cap and whole suit if necessary" said Mrs. Cornwallis. "Ralph is older but he is small of his age and Laurens was large. Besides he is resourceful. He might make himself look younger than he is." Ralph was sent for at once. He too, had been ill from the shock of Lauren's death but he aroused himself and came to the rescue. He dressed himself in the George Washington suit. He donned the _Can't-tell-a-lie cap_ which Mrs. Cornwallis had made the crowning glory, by adding to it Lauren's beautiful curls, which had been clipped from his head by the thoughtful undertaker. He took the kite in hand and waited by the door until Ruth called out: "Laurens come back! Come back! Speak to me angel! kiss me!" Then he opened the door and responded to the call. The effect was magical. She fancied it was Laurens. She talked and laughed and slept in that belief. When she awoke, she took her food and medicine from his hand. She did whatever he asked her to do. She was finally saved, brain intact. But this was not the end of little Ruth's misery and the anxiety of her parents. She was in a state of nervous wreck that required fully as much watchfulness, if not quite so much solicitude as that of the mental stress. Sudden noises, especially those of an explosive nature, such as the firing of a gun or pistol, would cause a nervous shock, from which it would take days and often weeks to recover. But worse than all was her horror of Independence Day. She looked forward to its coming with a dread, akin to terror. "O what _shall_ we do now, Doctor? What _can_ we do?" asked her mother. "Take her away out of sight and sound of it," replied the doctor, "and give her immediate assurance that you will do so." "But where to go, Doctor? This terrible thing is everywhere more or less."