alarmed, and yet he was totally unprepared for the abrupt answer which he received when he first found a chance to ask the question in private. "He hasn't a chance in a hundred; brain is injured; is morally certain to have a course of fever, and he has burned his system so thoroughly with poison that he has no rallying power." It was late in the afternoon before the doctor, after issuing very strict and careful orders, left his patient for a few hours. Mr. Hastings turned at once to Theodore, and spoke in the haughty, half-sarcastic tone which he always assumed toward him. "Now, young man, I don't know how you became mixed up with this sad accident; some people have a marvelous faculty for getting mixed up with troubles. Neither do I know to what extent you have attempted to serve me; but if you have put yourself out in any way for me or mine, I am duly grateful, and stand ready, as you very well know, to liquidate your claims with a check whenever you are prepared to receive it." In justice to Mr. Hastings, be it said that he had drank a glass of brandy just before this insulting speech, and its fumes were already busy with his brain. Theodore made no sort of reply; his heart was too heavy with a sickening dread of what was to come to be careful about maintaining his own dignity--and, indeed, Mr. Hastings gave him very little time, for he immediately added: "And now, as the doctor has ordered absolute quiet, it is advisable for all who are not useful, to absent themselves from the sick-room. Therefore, it would perhaps be well for you to retire at once." Theodore bowed gravely, and immediately left the room. Dora immediately followed him--her cheeks were glowing, and her eyes were unusually bright. "Mr. Mallery," she began--speaking in a quick, excited tone--"I beg you will not consider yourself grossly insulted. Papa does not mean--does not know----" and she stopped in pitiful confusion. Theodore spoke gently--"I am not offended, Miss Dora--your father is excited, and withal does not understand me. But do not think that I have deserted Pliny, or can desert him. And we will give ourselves continually to prayer concerning him. Shall we not?" The first tears that Dora had shed that day rolled down her cheeks; but she only answered: "I thank you _very_ much," and vanished. Deprived thus suddenly of the privilege of doing for and watching over his friend, Theodore bethought himself of the other sufferer, and sought the room where he had been carried. He tapped lightly at the door, but received no answer, and afraid to make further demonstrations, lest he might disturb the sick one, he turned away. But a waiter just at that moment flung open the door, and to his amazement, Theodore saw that the room was empty! "Where is Mr. Phillips?" he inquired, in surprise. "They have taken him home, sir. Didn't you know it?"