“Charlotte Ruston,” she whispered fiercely, “you have to be strong—­and strong—­and stronger yet!  You have to be! You have to be!”

Then she rose quickly to her feet, with a motion not unlike that with which John Leaver had sprung to his an hour before.  It was a movement which meant that emotion must yield to action.  She went swiftly back to the house, in at the door, up the straight, high stairs to her room.

As she lighted her candle a voice spoke from Madam Chase’s room, its door open into her own.

“Charlotte?”

“Yes, Granny?”

The girl went in, taking the candle, which she set upon the dressing-table.  She bent over the bed, putting her lips close to the old lady’s ear.

“Can’t you sleep, dear?” she asked.

“Not until you are in, child.  Why are you so late?”

“It’s not late, Granny.  You know I went to Dr. Burns’s to dinner.”

“It’s very late,” repeated the delicate old voice, slightly querulous, because of its owner’s failure to hear the explanation.  “Much too late for a girl like you.  You should have had your beauty sleep long ago.”

Charlotte smiled, feeling as if her twenty-six years had added another ten to themselves since morning.  She patted the soft cheek on the pillow, and tenderly adjusted the gossamer nightcap which, after the fashion of its wearer’s youth, kept the white locks snugly in order during the sleeping hours.

“I’m here now, Granny.  Please go to sleep right away.  Or—­would you like a glass of milk first?”

“What say?”

“Milk, dear,—­hot milk?”

“Yes, yes, it will put me to sleep.  Quite hot, not lukewarm.”

Charlotte went down the steep stairs again, heated the milk, and brought it back.  When it had been taken she kissed the small face, drew the linen sheet smooth again, and went away with the candle.  In her own room she presently lay down upon her cot, rejoicing that the old lady could not hear its creaking.

Toward morning she fell asleep.

CHAPTER XII

A CHALLENGE

“Miss Ruston!”

“Yes?” The answer came through the door of the dark-room.  “I can’t come out for four minutes.  Can you give me the message through a closed door?”

“Certainly,” responded Amy Mathewson, standing outside.  She was dressed for motor travel and her eyes were full of anticipation.  “Mr. Macauley is taking some of us out to meet Dr. Burns at Sunny Farm.  The Doctor has telephoned from there that he would be very glad if you could come with us, bring your camera, and take some photographs of a patient for him.”

“Delighted—­if I can arrange for Granny,” Charlotte called back.

“Mrs. Burns’s Cynthia will stay with her.”

“How soon must we start?”

“As soon as you can be ready.”

“Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be there.”