The doctor’s look, with its old benevolent twinkle, went from one girl’s face to the other.

“Know—­too—­much!” he said, with difficulty, in his eyes the innocent triumph of the child who will not be deceived.  Quite unexpectedly, Julia felt her lip tremble, tears brimmed her eyes.  The invalid saw them, felt one drop hot on his hand.

“No—­no—­no!” he said, with pitying gentleness.  And, with great effort, he added, “Seen—­Jimmy?”

“Not yet,” stammered Julia, shaken to her very soul.

The doctor shut his eyes, his fingers still clinging to Julia’s.  After perhaps two full minutes of silence, he whispered: 

“Be good to Jimmy, Julia!  Be good to him.”

Julia could not answer.  Barbara found her, in her own room, half an hour later, crying bitterly.  It was then quite dark.  The two had a long talk, ended only when Constance came flying in.  Dad seemed better, much brighter, was asking for Richie, wanted to know if Ned had come.

Constance and Barbara went back to the sickroom, and Julia went downstairs to find them.  She entered the almost dark library, where Richie and Ned were sitting before the fire.  There was some one with them; Julia knew in an instant who it was.  Her heart began to hammer, her breath failed her.  A murmur of friendly low voices ended with her entrance; the three dim forms rose in the gloom.

“Con?” asked Richie.  Julia touched a wall switch, and the great lamp on the centre table bloomed into sudden light.

“No, it’s Julia—­they want you, Rich,” she said, “and you, too, Ned.  Con says he’s much brighter.  He asked for you both.”

“Hello, dear, I didn’t know you were here,” Richie said affectionately, kindly eyes on her face.  “But you mustn’t cry, Ju!” he added gently.

“I—­I saw him,” Julia said, mingled emotions making speech almost impossible.  “Isn’t there any hope, Richie?”

“None at all,” Jim said, leaving the fireplace to quietly join Julia and Richie at the centre table.

The unforgotten voice!  Every fibre in Julia’s body thrilled to mortal shock.  She rallied her courage and endurance sternly; she must not betray herself.  Anger helped her, for she knew him well enough to know that the situation for him was not devoid of a certain artistic enjoyment.

“Yes, it may come to-night, it may come to-morrow,” Richie assented sorrowfully.  “But it’s the end, I’m afraid!”

Julia clung to his arm; never had Richie seemed so dear and good to her.

“Your mother will die of it, Rich,” she said, to say something.  The room seemed to her shouting with Jim’s presence; she kept her eyes on Richie’s face.  Ned, never more than an overgrown boy, put his face in his hands and began to sob.

“Sh—­h!” Jim warned them.  Mrs. Toland came in.

“He’s better—­he wants to see you boys!” she said, tremulously happy.  Her eyes went from face to face.  “Why, what’s the matter?” she demanded.  “You don’t think it’s—­do you, Richie?  Do you, Jim?”