darkness. Of course it went out in the wind and had to be lighted again,
and I noticed that the young doctor gave a calm, curious glance at me,
and Frenchy, and that his eyes swiftly took in all of the poor, sordid,
little place.

I stood in a corner, out of the way, for now it seemed to me that I was
of very little moment. This man was going to do everything that really
mattered, and I would only sit by the bed, afterwards, and watch, and try
and do things to help.

Dr. Johnson filled a syringe with the antitoxine and injected the stuff
in Dr. Grant's arm, which looked awfully white, and then he turned to me.

"You need not stay any longer, Miss Jelliffe," he said, civilly. "I shall
watch him all night."

"You are not going to drive me away?" I cried.

Then he looked at me again, curiously, and there was a tiny little nod of
his head, as if he had just understood something, after which he took the
poor little chair and pushed it near the bed.

"Won't you sit down?" he said, so gently that my eyes filled with tears,
and again everything was blurred as I blundered to the seat.

He did some other things, and mixed medicines that he took out of a black
bag, and made John take some. After this he sat down on a wooden box,
near me, and watched in silence, and I felt that he was a friend. Mr.
Barnett left, promising to return soon, and we remained there, listening
to the quick breathing, and dully hearing the long, low booming of the