“‘We must have a doctor, and quickly.’

“It was a terrible night.  Our doctor was very remote.  Your father suggested another, near by.

“Dr.——­, well, never mind his name.  Your father said he had lately known him, and liked him much.

“Through the storm he came, and by his skilful treatment Lilly was soon restored to consciousness, but not to health.  A low nervous fever set in, and many days we watched with fearful hearts.  Ah! during those days I learned to look too eagerly for the doctor’s coming.  Indeed, he made his way into the hearts of all in our home.  After the dreaded crisis had passed, and we knew that Lilly would be spared to us, the doctor told mother he should have to prescribe for me.  I had grown pale, from confinement in the sick-room, and he must take me for a drive, that the fresh air should bring the roses back to my cheeks.  Willingly mother consented.  After that I often went.  When Lilly was able to come down-stairs, this greatest pleasure of my life then was divided with her.  One afternoon I stood on the porch with her, waiting while the doctor arranged something about the harness.

“‘Oh! how I wish it was my time to go!’ she whispered.

“’Well, darling, it shall be your time.  I can go to-morrow.  Run, get your hat and wraps,’ I said, really glad to give any additional pleasure to this child of many sorrows.

“’No, no, that would not be fair.  And, Edna, don’t you know that to-morrow I would be so sorry if I went to-day?  I do not mean to be selfish, but, oh, indeed I cannot help it!  I am wishing every time to go.  Not that I care for a ride—­’ She hesitated, flushed, and whispered:  ’I like to be with my doctor.  Don’t you, Edna?  Oh!  I wish he was my father, or brother, or cousin—­just to be with us all the time, you know.’

“Just then the doctor came for me, and I had to leave her.  As we drove off I looked back and kissed my hand to her, saying: 

“‘Dear little thing!  I wish she was going with us.’

“‘I do not,’ the doctor surprised me by saying.

“I raised my eyes inquiringly to his.  In those beautiful, earnest eyes I saw something that made me profoundly happy.  I could not speak.  After a moment he added: 

“’She is a beautiful, winning child, and I enjoy her company.  But when with her, I feel as if it was my duty to devote myself entirely to her—­in a word, to take care of her, or, I should say, to care for her only.  And this afternoon, of all others, I do not feel like having Lilly with us.’

“That afternoon was one of the happiest of my life.  Although not a word of love passed his lips.  I knew it filled his heart, and was for me.  He told me of his home, his relatives, his past life.  Of his mother he said: 

“‘When you know her, you will love her dearly.’

“He seemed to be sure that I should know her.  And then—­ah, well, I thought so too, then.