That night at dinner she confronted me with a face as white as a sheet: "Oh, Mortimer, there's another! Little Georgi Gordon is taken." "Membranous croup ?" "Membranous croup." "Is there any hope for him ?" "None in the wide world.

Oh, what is to become of us!" By and by a nurse brought in our Penelope to say good night and offer the customary prayer at the mother's knee.

In the midst of "Now I lay me down to sleep," she gave a slight cough! My wife fell back like one stricken with death.

But the next moment she was up and brimming with the activities which terror inspires.
She commanded that the child's crib be removed from the nursery to our bedroom; and she went along to see the order executed.

She took me with her, of course.