“Where is what?” inquired the girl, going to her side.

“The swelling!”

“There is none,” said Katherine, with a happy smile as she glanced at the white, shapely neck to find it in its normal condition.

“Neither is there any soreness in my throat!  Child, I do not know what to think of it!” said the woman, with a note of awe in her tone.

“Think that God was a very present help in time of need,” returned Katherine, with sweet seriousness and a slight tremble in her own voice.

Miss Reynolds fell back upon her pillow, a thoughtful look on her face.  But, presently, glancing at the clock, she said: 

“Dear child, you must go for your breakfast, or you will be too late.”

“I will; but what shall I bring you afterwards?”

“What may I have?”

“Anything you like.”

“Truly?”

“Certainly; don’t you remember what we were talking of last week—­ man’s God-given dominion over all things?”

“Well, it surpasses my comprehension, for I have always had to be careful what I ate after one of these attacks!  But I am in your hands, Kathie—­you may bring me what you choose, and I believe I am hungry,” Miss Reynolds returned, in a tone of conviction.

“You shall have something very soon,” Katherine assured her, and, having dressed her hair while talking, she now flew away to her own room to complete her toilet, a paean of praise thrilling her heart for the recent safe and triumphant passage through the Red Sea of human fear and error, whose waves had so threatened to engulf her patient the night before.

Breakfast was nearly over when she reached the dining room; but she slid quietly into her place and made a hurried meal, after which she sought the matron and gave her order for Miss Reynolds, saying she would wait and take the tray up to her.

While she was waiting, Mrs. Seabrook espied her and came to inquire for her patient.

“She is more comfortable this morning,” Katherine replied, and, thinking it wise not to say very much regarding the conditions upstairs.

Mrs. Seabrook appeared greatly relieved.

“I am thankful,” she said.  “I was very anxious about her last night, for I have never seen her so ill before.  Poor Dorrie is not as well, either, this morning,” she concluded, with a weary sigh.

A wave of compassion swept over Katherine’s heart for this sweet, patient woman, who was so heavily burdened with her own cares, yet ever ready to do for others.

“Give my love to Dorrie,” she said, adding:  “And I will run in to see her this afternoon, if I may.”

“Do, Miss Minturn,” said her companion, eagerly.  “You always do the child good, and she will have something pleasant to look forward to during the day.”

Miss Reynolds enjoyed her breakfast, which she ate with perfect ease.  Then she said she would like to be left alone to rest until noon, when Katherine might bring her a light dinner—­“provided her breakfast did not hurt her.”