‘I want to speak to you,’ he said, and he led her out of the room, leaving Rose, Ethel, and John in charge of Meshach.

‘What is it, doctor?’ she asked him plaintively on the landing.

‘Which is your bedroom?  Show it me,’ he demanded.  She opened a door, and they both went in.  ‘I’ll light the gas,’ he said, doing so.  ‘And now,’ he proceeded, ’you’ll kindly retire to bed, instantly.  Mr. Myatt is out of danger.’  He smiled warmly, just as he had smiled when he predicted that Meshach would probably not recover.

‘But, doctor,’ Leonora protested.

‘Instantly,’ he said, forcing her gently on to the sofa at the foot of the two beds.

‘But some one ought to go down to Church Street to look after things,’ she began.

‘Church Street can wait.  There’s no hurry at Church Street now.’

‘And uncle hasn’t been told yet ...  I’m not at all over-tired, doctor.’

‘Yes, mother dear, you are, and you must do as the doctor orders.’  It was Ethel who had come into the room; she touched Leonora’s arm caressingly.

‘And where are you girls to sleep?  The spare room isn’t——­’

‘Oh, mother!——­Just listen to her, doctor!’ said Ethel, stroking her mother’s hand, as though she and the doctor were two old and sage persons, and Leonora was a small child.

‘They think I’m ill!  They think I’m going to collapse!’ The idea struck her suddenly.  ’But I’m not.  I’m quite well, and my brain is perfectly clear.  And anyhow, I’m sure I can’t sleep.’  She said aloud:  ’It wouldn’t be any use; I shouldn’t sleep.’

‘Ah!  I’ll attend to that, I’ll attend to that!’ the doctor laughed.  ‘Ethel, help your mother to bed.’  He departed.

‘This is really most absurd,’ Leonora reflected.  ’It’s ridiculous.  However, I’m only doing it to oblige them.’

Before she was entirely undressed, Rose entered with a powder in a white paper, and a glass of hot milk.

’You are to swallow this, mother, and then drink this.  Here, Eth, hold the glass a second.’

And Leonora accepted the powder from Rose and the milk from Ethel, as they stood side by side in front of her.  Great waves seemed to surge through her brain.  In walking to the bed, she saw herself all white in the mirror of the wardrobe.

‘My face looks as if it was covered with flour,’ she said to Ethel, with a short laugh.  It did not occur to her that she was pale.  ’Don’t forget to——­’ But she had forgotten what Ethel was not to forget.  Her head reeled as it lay firmly on the pillow.  The waves were waves of sound now, and they developed into a rhythm, a tune.  She had barely time to discover that the tune was the Blue Danube Waltz, and that she was dancing, when the whole world came to an end.

* * * * *