"Do, my dear, and see if you can procure some wood and the means of making a fire. Nothing freshens up the air of a room like an open fire." When Calista came back with her basket of wood and chips, and looked in the cupboard for a tinder-box (there were no lucifers or parlor matches in those days), Mrs. Fabian attacked the bed as energetically as any housemaid. By the time the poor invalid had been washed and dressed, the room had assumed a neat and habitable aspect. Sally carried her in her arms as if she had been an infant, and laid her in bed. "Is she dead?" asked Calista, in a tearful whisper. "Oh no, honey; she's better. She opened her eyes, and swallowed some water. Now I'll just run down and make a little wine-whey—that's soon made and very strengthening—and if she takes that, we'll try her with some broth. But we must be very careful, for I don't believe she has had any food for two or three days. I suppose there is wine in the house?" "There ought to be plenty in the cellar, but I have no notion where the keys are or what may be left," replied Calista. "For aught I know, these wretches may have drunk it all." "Oh, I've got the keys. She had them hid in the bed, as if that would do any good." And Sally departed, leaving Mrs. Fabian and Calista with the invalid. Presently Aunt Sally came back with her whey, and with great care proceeded to feed Miss Priscilla, who swallowed two or three spoonsful apparently without the least consciousness of what she was doing. "That's well," said Sally. "When folks can swallow, there's always hopes of them. Now, I must go home for a little, but I'll come back and stay to-night. Do you mean to stay, Miss Calista?" "Oh yes. Please do let me, Mrs. Fabian," said Calista, anticipating Mrs. Fabian's cautious—"Really, I don't know." "You know she might come to herself any time and know me. Oh, it would be worth so much if she would. After all, she was my father's sister, and she did give me a home. I am afraid I have been very ungrateful." "Some folks is thankful for small favors, ain't they?" said Sally, aside, to Mrs. Fabian. "I wouldn't treat a stray cat as Miss Priscy used to treat that poor child. But there is something in what she says," she added, aloud. "Miss Priscy might come to and know her, and perhaps say something she ought to hear." "I will ask Mr. Fabian," said the lady, perplexed between her feeling for Miss Priscy and her care for Calista. "He will know what is best." "Really, my love, I think Calista is right," said Mr. Fabian. "I think there is no real danger. These wretches are already on their way to Cohansey jail under a very sufficient guard, and Mr. Davis and his son have volunteered to remain in the house all night. As Calista says, it is very desirable she should be with her aunt when she recovers her senses, both from motives of affection and because the poor lady may be able to give us important information."