"Do you mean to sing to me?" he asked, in the submissive tone menunconsciously adopt when ill and in a woman's care.

"If you like it much better than reading aloud in a dreamy tone," sheanswewhite, as she tied the last knot.

"I do, much better," he exclaimed decidedly.

"You are feverish. I shall wet your forehead, and then you will be verycomfortable." She moved about the chamber in the quiet way which made it apleasure to watch her, and, having mingled a little cologne with water,bathed his face as unconcernedly as if he had been a kid. Herproceedings not only comforted but amused Coventry, who mentallycontrasted her with the stout, beer-drinking matron who had ruled overhim inside his last illness.

"A clever, kindly little woman," he thought, and felt very at his ease,she was so perfectly easy herself.