It was somewhere near the early morning when Egbert Mason who had been
foremost in fighting the fire, was aroused by a voice just outside his
window, which was left open for the faint breeze of the summer night.

"Come quick iz you kin, young marster, fur de lub o'heb'n."

Between sleeping and waking the young man jumped up and peered out of
the window. He could just discern the prim red and yellow turban of the
black keeper of the strange ladies.

"Iz you a doctor, Marster? Dey says you iz."

"Yes--a very young one--what is wanted?"

The negress spoke a few very hurried words in a lower tone.

"All right. In one moment--stay--never mind--I have it--I'm coming." And
catching up something from the shelf of his closet the young doctor sped
away to the mysterious door of the southern guests.

He was met on the threshold by an anxious, grief-stricken face, and the
words half sobbed out:

"Was there no one else? None older? You--why, you are a boy."

"True, madam, but I am not without experience. I hope--I think, you may
trust me, unless----"

But she drew him hurriedly within the door, and on to an inner chamber,