But even as he spoke his face grew white and he swayed on his feet. In an instant the doctor was out of his car. “Get in, lad,” he said briefly, and Larry, surrendering, climbed into the back seat, fighting fiercely meanwhile to prevent the tears from showing in his eyes. Keeping up a brisk and cheerful conversation with Jane in regard to the game, the doctor drove rapidly toward his home. “You will come in with us, my boy,” said the doctor as they reached his door. By this time Larry was past all power of resistance and yielded himself to the authority of the doctor, who had him upstairs and into bed within a few minutes of his arrival. A single word Larry uttered during this process, “Tell my mother,” and then sank into a long nightmare, through which there mingled dim shapes and quiet voices, followed by dreamless sleep, and an awakening to weakness that made the lifting of his eyelids an effort and the movement of his hand a weariness. The first object that loomed intelligible through the fog in which he seemed to move was a little plain face with great blue eyes carrying in them a cloud of maternal anxiety. Suddenly the cloud broke and the sun burst through in a joyous riot, for in a voice that seemed to him unfamiliar and remote Larry uttered the single word, “Jane.” “Oh!” cried the little girl rapturously. “Oh, Larry, wait.” She slipped from the room and returned in a moment with his mother, who quickly came to his side. “You are rested, dear,” she said, putting her hand under his head. “Drink this. No, don't lift your head. Now then, go to sleep again, darling,” and, stooping down, she kissed him softly. “Why--are--you--crying?” he asked faintly. “What's the--matter?” “Nothing, darling; you are better. Just sleep.” “Better?--Have--I--been--sick?” “Yes, you have been sick,” said his mother. “Awfully sick,” said Jane solemnly. “A whole week sick. But you are all right now,” she added brightly, “and so is Joe, and Sam, and Rover and Rosie. I saw them all this morning and you know we have been praying and praying and--” “Now he will sleep, Jane,” said his mother, gently touching the little girl's brown tangle of hair. “Yes, he will sleep; oh, I'm just awful thankful,” said Jane, suddenly rushing out of the room. “Dear little girl,” said the mother. “She has been so anxious and so helpful--a wonderful little nurse.” But Larry was fast asleep, and before he was interested enough to make inquiry about his comrades in travel the car in charge of Joe and Sam, with Mr. Gwynne in the caboose, was far on its way to Alberta. After some days Jane was allowed to entertain the sick boy, as was her custom with her father, by giving an account of her day's doings. These were happy days for them both. Between the boy and the girl the beginnings of a great friendship sprang up. “Larry, I think you are queer,” said Jane to him gravely one day. “You are not a bit like you were in the car.”