"Tell them to go away," he said with a frown. "I can't see them to-day. I may never be able to see them again." "Come, come, Doctor, pull yourself together and go. I'll go with you. It's the best medicine you can take." He answered angrily: "No, no! I'm in no mood to work. I couldn't help them. I'd poison and kill them all, feeling as I do to-day. A physician can't heal the sick unless there's healing in his own soul. I'd bring death not life into their homes. Tell them to go away!" Stuart emptied his pockets of all the money he had in a desperate effort to break their disappointment. "The doctor's too ill to see you, now," he explained. "He sent this money for you and hopes it will help you over the worst until he can come." He divided the money among them and they looked at it with dull disappointment. They were glad to get it, but what they needed more than the money was the hope and strength of their friend's presence. They left with dragging feet and Stuart returned to the doctor's room determined not to leave until he knew the secret of his collapse. From the haggard face and feverish eyes he knew he hadn't slept yet. He had gotten up at one o'clock and dressed. The lunch which the maid had brought to his room was on the table by his bed, untouched. The young lawyer softly closed the door and sat down. The older man gazed at him in a dull stupor. "Doctor," Stuart began gently. "I've known you for about fifteen years. You're the only father I've had in this big town, and you've been a good one. You've been acting strangely for the past two weeks. You're in trouble." "The greatest trouble that can come to any human soul," was the bitter answer. "Haven't I won the right to your confidence and friendship in such an hour?" "My trouble, boy, is beyond the help of friends." "Nonsense," Stuart answered cheerfully. "Shake off the blues. What's wrong? Do you need money?" The doctor broke into a discordant laugh. "No. I've just sent Harriet abroad. I've some money laid away that will last a year or two until she is earning a good salary. What gave you the idea?" The last question he asked with sudden sharp energy. "Actions that indicate a strain greater than you can bear." "No, you're mistaken," he answered roughly. "I can bear it all right." He paused and his eyes stared at the ceiling as he groaned: "I've got to bear it; what's the use to whine?" Stuart stepped close and slipped his arm about the stalwart figure. His voice was tender with a man's deep feeling.