Poor little Nettie was dead.

Her life had literally been worried out of her; and during those September days, when Ethelyn was watched and tended so carefully, she had turned herself wearily upon her pillow, and just as the clock was striking the hour of midnight, asked of the attendant: "Has Frank come yet ?" "Not yet.

Do you want anything ?" "No, nothing.

Is mother here ?" "She was tired out, and has gone to her room to rest.

Shall I call her ?" "No, no matter.