"And I had the nicest biscuits for supper I ever made," moaned Lyddy. "They were just as fluffy----"

"Oh, bother your biscuits!" snapped 'Phemie. "Have you had the doctor for father?"

"I--I've sent for one," replied Lyddy, faintly, suddenly conscience-stricken by the fact that she had accepted the assistance of the young stranger, to whom she had never been introduced! "Oh, dear! I hope he comes soon."

"How long has he been this way, Lyd? Why didn't you send for me?" demanded the younger sister, clasping her hands and leaning over the unconscious man.

"Why, he came home from work just as usual. I--I didn't notice that he was worse," replied the older girl, breathlessly. "He said he'd lie down----"

"You should have called the doctor then."

"Why, dear, I tell you he seemed just the same. He almost always lies down when he comes home now. You know that."

"Forgive me, Lyddy!" exclaimed 'Phemie, contritely. "Of course you are just as careful of father as you can be. But--but it's so awful to see him lie like this."

"He fainted without my knowing a thing about it," moaned Lyddy.

"Oh! if it's only just a faint----"

"He couldn't even have heard the noise upstairs over the fire."

Just then a stream of water descended through the cracked bedroom ceiling, first upon the back of 'Phemie's neck, and then upon the drugget which covered the floor.

"Suppose this ceiling falls, too?" wailed Lyddy, wringing her hands.

"I hope not! And we'll have to pay the doctor when he comes, Lyd. Have you got money enough in your purse?"

"I--I guess so."

"I'll not have any more after this week," broke out 'Phemie, suddenly. "They told me today the rush for Easter would be over Saturday night and they would have to let me go till next season. Isn't that mean?"

Lydia Bray had sat down upon the edge of their father's bed.

"I guess everything has happened at once," she sighed. "I don't see what we shall do, 'Phemie."

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