Mrs. Grey pushed open the dining-room door and drew the girls after her into the room where the Rutherford boys had retreated to await the verdict. Mrs. Grey sank into the chair nearest her and laid her head on her arms above the table with a girlish movement of abandonment. Basil, grave and kindly, bent over her and put his arm across her shoulder as if to ward off grief. Bruce stroked the fine brown hair of the bowed head with awkward gentleness, and Bartlemy hovered helplessly in the background, making no secret of the tears on his brown cheeks. The girls knelt beside her, Prue's head in her mother's lap. "Don't, Mardy darling," said Wythie at last; it seemed so horribly unnatural for their brave mother to break down. "See, Bruce, what you must do if you become a doctor," said Mrs. Grey, raising her head and trying to speak cheerfully. "You will have to tell people alarming truths, and go away knowing you have left behind you stricken hearts, for which you have just changed the whole face of creation." "I would rather remember the comfort I may be able to bring," said Bruce. "Is it so bad?" "Unless Mr. Grey will give himself the care which we are sure he will not feel that he can afford to give, he is in mortal danger; he is almost certain to have more of these attacks--angina pectoris, it is--and they are--are likely--Oh, my dears, just be patient with me a few moments! I will be brave later, but I must be a coward for a few moments, please dears!" And once more the head bent under its burden upon the folded arms. Miss Charlotte came into the room, calm and smiling, and went directly to Mrs. Grey. Taking her hand in one of hers, and running the fingers of her other hand through Prue's golden hair, she said, brightly: "Mary, dear, Sylvester is sleeping beautifully; he will waken refreshed. I know precisely what the doctor told you; I have seen angina pectoris before, and I recognized it. But we are not going to be cast down--only very careful. Dearest children, you are so frightened, aren't you? Remember, you must cheer your mother. Wythie and Rob, go make us your very best coffee. And Prudy-girl, dry your eyes, and cut us bread very thin, and butter it. And perhaps 'Battalion B' won't mind helping the girls with the fire--I'm sure it's nearly out. Now, Mary," she added, as the young people disappeared, and Mrs. Grey rose and threw herself on her cousin's breast, "courage, dear! Only your old courage re-enforced. There is danger, but we are going to be confident of escape. Go bathe your dear face, and then come back for your coffee, and when Sylvester wakens he will find the cheery Mary Winslow, who has tided him over so many hard spots. I think I hear Kiku mewing; perhaps we shut him in the sitting-room. Will you see when you go up?"