“Here, I’ll help you to the bed and open the window,” he said.  “Never smoked before?  Well, don’t be discouraged; I was deathly sick first time myself.”

“I’m half blind and awfully sick,” groaned Max, as he stretched himself on the bed.  “Does it last long? can a fellow get over it without taking any medicine?”

“Oh, yes; you’ll be all right after a little.”

But Max was not all right when a servant came to the door to say that he was wanted down-stairs, as the party from Ion were about to return home.

“Think you can get down with the help of my arm?” asked Ralph.

“Don’t b’lieve he kin, Marse Ralph,” remarked the servant, gazing earnestly at Max.  “What’s de mattah wid de young gentleman?  He’s white as de wall, and his eyes looks like glass.”

“Hush, Sam! you’ll frighten him,” whispered Ralph.  “Run down and ask my brother Arthur to come up.  Don’t let anybody else hear you.”

Max had tried to rise, but only to fall back again sicker than ever.

“Oh, but I’m sick, and how my heart beats!” he said.  “I can’t possibly sit up, much less walk down-stairs.  What will Mamma Vi and the rest say?  I’m afraid Grandpa Dinsmore will be very angry with me.”

“He hasn’t any right to be,” said Ralph; “’tisn’t wicked to smoke.  But I’ll tell Art not to let him know what made you sick.”

Just then the doctor came in.  Sam had met him in the hall.

“What’s the matter?” he asked; “sick, Max?  Ah, you’ve been smoking?” sniffing the air of the room and glancing at the boy’s pallid face.

“Tell him it isn’t dangerous.  Art,” laughed Ralph, “for I do believe he’s dreadfully scared.”

“No, I’m not!” protested Max indignantly, “but I’m sick, and giddy, and half blind.  I never smoked before, and didn’t know it would sicken me so.”

“How many cigars have you smoked?” asked Arthur, taking hold of his wrist.

“Only half a one,” said Ralph; “he threw the rest of it in the fire.”

“The best place for it,” said Arthur.  “Don’t be alarmed, my boy, the sickness and all the other bad effects will pass off after a while; all the sooner if you are breathing pure air.  Ralph, open the door into the hall and the one opposite.  Then ring for Sam to kindle a fire in that room.”

As he spoke he took Max in his arms, and, Ralph preceding them to open the doors, carried him into an unoccupied bedroom, laid him on a couch, and covered him up carefully to guard against his taking cold.

“No need to ring for Sam; fire’s laid all ready to kindle,” remarked Ralph, glancing at the open grate.

He struck a match, and in another minute the flames were leaping up right merrily.

Meantime a report that Max was sick had reached the parlor, and Mr. Dinsmore, his daughter, and granddaughter came up to express their sympathy and see for themselves how serious the illness was.  Their faces were full of anxiety and concern till they learned the cause of the sickness, when they evidently felt much relieved.