Then came the blackest day and night of all when the town could only wait and watch--it had lost its hope; when the doctors shook their heads and refused to meet Mrs.
Holly's eyes; when the pulse in the slim wrist outside the coverlet played hide-and-seek with the cool, persistent fingers that sought so earnestly for it; when Perry Larson sat for uncounted sleepless hours by the kitchen stove, and fearfully listened for a step crossing the hallway; when Mr.Jack on his porch, and Miss Holbrook in her tower widow, went with David down into the dark valley, and came so near the rushing river that life, with its petty prides and prejudices, could never seem quite the same to them again.
Then, after that blackest day and night, came the dawn--as the dawns do come after the blackest of days and nights.

In the slender wrist outside the coverlet the pulse gained and steadied.

On the forehead beneath the nurse's fingers, a moisture came.

The doctors nodded their heads now, and looked every one straight in the eye.

"He will live," they said.