The man was discreet and energetic, and they were all so expeditious that the evening saw them with their sad freight on the way to Forestville, the keys of Mildred’s rooms having been left with the kind woman who had befriended her in the sudden and awful emergency.  Mrs. Wheaton parted from Mildred as if she were her own child, and went mournfully back to her busy, useful life.  Mr. and Mrs. Jocelyn were buried with a quiet, simple service beside poor Belle, and sensible Mrs. Wilson soon inspired the good-hearted village people with the purpose to spare the feelings of the stricken girl in every possible way.  Mildred caressed her little brother and sister with the tenderness of a mother added to her sisterly affection, and she was comforted to see how much they had already improved in the pure country air.  “Oh, Clara,” she said, “what a friend you have been to me!  God alone can repay you.”

“Millie,” Mrs. Wilson earnestly replied, “I owe you a debt I can never pay.  I owe you and darling Belle happiness and prosperity for this life, and my hope of the life to come.  My husband is strong and prosperous, and he says J shall do all that’s in my heart for you.  Oh, Millie, he is so good to me, and he cried over Belle like a child.  I thought I loved him before, but when I saw those tears I just worshipped him.  He has a man’s heart, like Roger.  Now, Millie, I’m going to keep these children as long as you’ll let me, and treat them as my own.  I feel that the promise has been given to me that they’ll grow up to be a great comfort to us both.”

On the evening after the funeral Mildred went to aid in the care of Roger, and Mrs. Atwood greeted her with all the warmth and tenderness that a daughter would have received.  Even Mr. Atwood drew his sleeve across his eyes as he said, “If you’ll help us save our boy, you’ll find that I’m not as crabbed and crooked a stick as I seem.”

Mildred was shocked and her heart chilled with fear at the change in Roger, but her hand upon his brow and her voice did more to quiet him than all the physician’s remedies.  She became his almost tireless watcher, and she said hopefully that the bracing autumn winds rustled around the farmhouse like the wings of ministering angels, and that they would bring life and health to the fever-stricken man.  They all wondered at her endurance, for while she looked so frail she proved herself so strong.  At last the crisis came, as it had in Belle’s case, but instead of waking to die he passed from delirium into a quiet sleep, Mildred holding his hand, and when he opened his eyes with the clear glance of intelligence, they first looked upon her dear face.  “Millie,” he whispered.

She put her fingers upon her lips, smiled, and said, “I won’t leave you if you will be good and do all I say.  You never failed me yet, Roger, and you must not now.”

“I’ll surely get well if you stay with me, Millie,” he answered contentedly, and soon he slept again as quietly as a child.