"That was kind, and I am sure the Doctor will be willing. How does he think you are getting along?" She asked the question idly, and scarcely expected an answer, but Lynn turned his face away and refused to meet her eyes. "Not very well," he said, in a low tone. "Why not, dear? You practise enough, don't you?" "Yes, I think so. He says I have the technique and the good wrist, but I play like a parrot, and can only amuse. He told me to take up the concertina." Margaret smiled. "That is his way. Just go on, dear, and do the very best you can." "But I don't want to disappoint you, mother--I want to be an artist." "Lynn, dear, you will never disappoint me. You have been a comfort to me since the day you were born. What should I have done without you in all these years that I have been alone!" She drew his tall head down and kissed him, but Lynn, boy-like, evaded the sentiment and turned it into a joke. "That's very Irish, mother--'what would you have done without me in all the time you've been alone?' How is the invalid?" "The fever is high," sighed Margaret, "and Doctor Brinkerhoff looks very grave." "I hope she isn't going to die," said Lynn, conventionally. "Can I do anything?" "No, nothing but wait. Sometimes I think that waiting is the very hardest thing in the world." That day was like the others. Weeks went by, and still Aunt Peace fought gallantly with her enemy. Doctor Brinkerhoff took up his abode in the great spare chamber and was absent from the house only when there was urgent need of his services elsewhere. He even gave up his Sunday afternoons at Herr Kaufmann's, and Fraeulein Fredrika was secretly distressed. "Fredrika," said the Master, gently, "the suffering ones have need of our friend. We must not be selfish." "Our friend possesses great skill," replied the Fraeulein, with quiet dignity. "Do you think he will forget us, Franz?" "Forget us? No! Fear not, Fredrika; it is only little loves and little friendships that forget. One does not need those ties which can be broken. The Herr Doctor himself has said that, and of a surety, he knows. Let us be patient and wait." "To wait," repeated Fredrika; "one finds it difficult, is it not so?" "Yes," smiled the Master, "but when one has learned to wait patiently, one has learned to live." Meanwhile, Aunt Peace grew steadily weaker, and the strain was beginning to tell upon all. Doctor Brinkerhoff had lost his youth--he was an old man. Margaret, painfully anxious, found relief from heartache only in unremitting toil. Iris ate very little, slept scarcely at all, and crept about the house like the ghost of her former self. Lynn alone maintained his cheerfulness. "Iris," said Aunt Peace, one day, "come here." "I'm here," said the girl, kneeling beside the bed, and putting her cold hand upon the other's burning cheek, "what can I do?" "Nothing, dearie. I could get well, I think, were it not for my terrible dreams."