54 A YEAR WITH NELLIE.

with “I cannot tell,” but his manner had
seemed to say, “There is no hope.”

Several times through the night Mr. Maine
sent her away, when she sat on the stairs until
he called her back. The doctor had left exact
instructions as to what was to be done until
his next visit, and however much he might be
overcome by sleep, the father never dozed long
enough to leave any of his duties as “nurse”
undone.

The worst time of all for Nellie was that
when she was shut out, as too young to be of
use. She would steal for an instant to her
mother’s side, make sure that she was still in
that sound slumber, and then go back to the
stairs until that closed door was unlatched,
then she would creep again to her chair by
Harry’s side, and sit with head resting on her
hand, watching his pallid face.

As long as she lived that night often came
back to Nellie’s mind, like a long terrible
dream, and she could see before her the little ©
boy, looking so innocent and pretty and help-
less, with his light yellow hair tangled into
knots and curls, and his cheek, usually so rosy,
almost the colour of the pillow on which it lay.