A slight moan from poor Revitts took Mary to the bedside, and very soon after she insisted upon my lying down and going to sleep a bit, and when I awoke the next morning, Mary was looking as fresh and wakeful as ever. I don't know to this day how Mary managed, for she never seemed to close an eye, but to be always watching over her "pore boy." When I talked about her going to bed, she only laughed, and said that "a good nuss never wanted no sleep." "And now, my dear, you've been kep' away from your work," she said; "so, as soon as you've had your breakfast, you be off. I can manage till you come back. I don't hold with neglecting nothing." She would not hear of opposition, so I left her the field, and went down to the office, where I saw Mr Hallett looking very pale and stern, and soon after I was at my old work, reading to Mr Jabez Rowle, who seemed very glad to see me back, complimenting me on my reading, by saying I was not quite so stupid as my substitute had been. When I returned to Caroline Street, I found Mary in consultation with the landlady, who then descended, and, to my great delight, Revitts was, if anything, better. Mary was very glad to see me back, and began to unfold her plans, to wit, that she had found that the front room was to let furnished, and she had taken it of Mrs Keswick, the landlady; for my use. "It will be better for all of us, my dear," she said, "so just you hold your tongue." I sat up late with Mary that night, and the next, and the next, talking about the past and the future, and still she seemed to get no sleep; but she always laughed about it, and declared that she went to sleep with one eye at a time. Be that as it may, a more patient, untiring nurse man never had, and right through poor Revitts' weary state of delirium she was always by his pillow, always smiling and cheerful through the worst crisis, till, one night, when I returned to be met by her on the stairs; and, finger on lips, she led me into the front room, to fall on my neck, and silently sob as if her heart would break. "Oh, Mary, Mary!" I said, "he's worse; and I thought he seemed so much stronger this morning." "No, no, dear," she sobbed, "he's better. He opened his eyes this afternoon and knowed me, and said: `Ah, Mary, old gal, is that you?'" Poor woman! The pent-up suffering that had been longing to burst forth, and which had all been hidden behind her mask of smiles, had come pouring out, and for the next half-hour Mary sobbed and wept in a quiet way till I was in despair. Then, to my surprise, she got up in a business-like manner, wiped her eyes, and smiled once more. "There!" she exclaimed, "I'm better now." CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. COMING OFF.