I have not had much time to see about the Morgage. One of their children is very sick and I will have to stay a few days. If the cough medisine gives out tell mother the directions is up by the Clock. I hope you are able to set up. Write and tell me how the Barley holds on. Tell the children to be good. Your loving wife, NANCY WATSON. "Nancy was always a great hand around where there's sickness," Robert commented to his mother-in-law. "I hope she won't hurry home if she's needed." He wrote her to that effect the next day, very proud of his ability to sit up, and urging her not to shorten her stay on his account. "Ime beter and the Barly is holding its own," he said, and Nancy found it ample. "This Mrs. Watson you have is a treasure," said the doctor to young Bartlett; "where did you find her?" "Find her? I thought you sent her," answered Bartlett, in a daze. "No; I couldn't find any one; I was at my wits' end." The two men stared at each other blankly. "Well, it doesn't matter where she came from," said the doctor, "so she stays. She's a whole relief corps and benevolent society in one." Young Bartlett spoke to Nancy about it the first time they were alone. "Who sent you to us, Mrs. Watson?" he asked. Nancy turned and looked out of the window. "Nobody sent me--I just came." Then she faced about. "I don't want to deceive nobody. I come down from Pinacate to see you about some--some business. They told me at the bank that you was up at the house, so I come up. When I found how it was, I thought I'd better stay--that's all." "From Pinacate--about some business?" queried the puzzled listener. "Yes; I didn't mean to say anything to you; I don't want to bother you about it when you're in trouble an' all wore out. I told them down at the bank; they'll tell you when you go down." And with this the young man was obliged to be content. It was nearly two weeks before the child was out of danger. Then Nancy said she must go home. The young mother kissed her tenderly when they parted. "I'm so sorry you can't stay and see the baby," she said, with sweet young selfishness; "they're going to bring him home very soon now. He's _so_ cute! Archie dear, go to the door with Mrs. Watson, and remember"--She raised her eyebrows significantly, and waited to see that her husband understood before she turned away. The young man followed Nancy to the hall. "How much do I owe"--He stopped, with a queer choking sensation in his throat. Nancy's face flushed. "I always want to be neighborly when there's sickness," she said; "'most anybody does. I hope you'll get on all right now. Good-by." She held out her work-hardened hand, and the young man caught it in his warm, prosperous grasp. They looked into each other's eyes an instant, not the mortgagor and the mortgagee, but the woman and the man. "Good-by, Mrs. Watson. I can never"--The words died huskily in his throat. "Papa," called a weak, fretful little voice.