‘What sort of night has Olive had?’ Mrs. Barton asked when she came in about eight.

‘Not a very quiet one; I am afraid she’s a little delirious.’

‘Dr. Reed promised to be here early.  How do you feel, dear?’ Mrs. Barton asked, leaning over the bed.

’Oh, very ill; I can scarcely breathe, and I have such a pain in my side.’

’Your lips look very sore, dear; do they hurt you?’—­Olive only moaned dismally—­and, looking anxiously at her elder daughter, she said: 

’And you, too, Alice, are not looking well.  You are tired, and mustn’t sit up another night with your sister.  To-night I’ll take your place.’

’Oh, mother, no!  I assure you it is a pleasure to me to nurse Olive.  I am very well indeed; do not think about me.’

’Indeed, I will think about you, and you must do as I tell you.  I’ll look after Olive, and you must try and get a good night’s rest We will take it in turns to nurse her.  And now come down to breakfast.  Barnes, you’ll not think of leaving Miss Olive until we come back; and, if any change occurs, ring for me immediately.’

When Dr. Reed arrived, Alice was again sitting by the bedside.

‘And how is our patient to-day?’

’I cannot say she is any better; she has a distressing cough, and last night I am afraid she was a little delirious.’

‘Ah, you say the cough is distressing?’

‘I am afraid I must call it distressing; is that a very bad sign?’

’Probably there is not much wrong, but it would be better to ascertain the condition of the patient, and then we may be able to do something to relieve her.’

The doctor drew a stethoscope from his pocket, and they lifted the patient into a sitting position.

‘I should like to examine her chest;’ and his fingers moved to unfasten her night-gown.

‘Don’t expose me,’ she murmured feebly.

‘Now, Olive dear, remember it is only the doctor; let him examine you.’

Olive’s eyes were a dull filmy blue, the lips were covered with sores, and there was a redness over the cheekbones—­not the hectic flush of phthisis, but a dusky redness.  And the patient was so weak that during the stethoscopic examination her head fell from side to side as she was moved, and when the doctor pressed her right side her moans were pregnant with pain.

‘Now let me see the tongue.  Dry and parched.’

‘Shall I die, doctor?’ the girl asked feebly and plaintively as she sank amidst the pillows.

‘Die! no, not if you take care of yourself and do what you are told.’

‘But tell me, Dr. Reed,’ Alice asked.  ‘You can tell me the truth.’

’She’ll get well if she takes care of herself.  It is impossible to say.  No one can predict the turn pneumonia will take.’

‘Pneumonia!  What is that?’

’Congestion of the lungs, or rather an advanced stage of it.  It is more common in men than in women, and it is the consequence of long exposure to wet and cold.’