Miss Ward shook her head. Then observing his feverish condition more closely, she hastened to say soothingly: "She will probably be here as soon as the storm lets up." Abbott looked at her appealingly. Thrusting his fingers inside the pocket of his pajamas he drew out a crumpled piece of paper. "Betty wrote that she would be here to-night," he protested. "And you must let her in--you must--" "Surely." Miss Ward again offered the rejected glass of milk. "Drink this," she coaxed, and obedient to the stronger will Abbott took a few swallows and then pushed the glass away. His head slipped back upon the pillow and Miss Ward deftly arranged the curtain of the four-poster so that it sheltered his eyes from the light of the wood fire burning on the hearth at the opposite end of the bedroom. An hour later she was about to replenish the wood for the third time when a distant peal of a door bell caused her to drop the kindling with unexpected suddenness in the center of the hot ashes. As the sparks flew upward, she heard Abbott call out and turned toward the bed. "It's Betty!" he exclaimed, with a feeble wave of his hand. "Go--go--let her in." "I will, but don't excite yourself," she cautioned. "Lie down on your pillows, Mr. Abbott, and keep yourself covered," drawing the eiderdown quilt over his shoulders as she spoke. Another, and more imperative peal of the bell caused her to hasten across the bedroom and into the hall. She peered ahead expectantly as she went down the staircase, hoping for a glimpse of the caretaker, Corbin. Evidently the bell had not disturbed his slumbers, for she could distinguish no one approaching in the semi-darkness. Unfamiliar as she was with her surroundings it took Miss Ward several minutes to let down the night latch and turn the old-fashioned key in the lock of the vestibule door. As she swung the latter open she was pushed back and two figures stepped across the threshold, closing the door behind them. The first, a tall slender girl, her handsome fur coat covered with snow, stopped halfway to the staircase and addressed Miss Ward. "Where is Mr. Abbott?" she demanded. "And why have you kept us waiting so long?" "I presume the caretaker is still asleep," replied the nurse. "Otherwise the door would have been opened more promptly. Mr. Abbott is ill in bed. Very ill," she added, meeting the girl's imperious glance with a steady gaze. "This is no hour for visitors for a sick man." "Oh, the hour!" The girl turned disdainfully away. "I must see Mr. Abbott; it is imperative. You are the nurse?" with a questioning glance at her white uniform. "Yes, and as such in charge of the sick room," crisply. "I cannot permit--"