There was no answer and no sign.
And she sent a pitiful entreaty to Doctor Toole, who came very good-naturedly--and indeed he was prowling about the doorway of his domicile in expectation of the summons.

And he shook her very cordially by the hand, and quite 'filled-up,' at her woebegone appeal, and told her she must not despair yet.
And this time he pronounced most positively that Sturk was still living.
'Yes, my dear Madam, so sure as you and I are.

There's no mistaking.' And as the warmth of the bed began to tell, the signs of life showed themselves more and more unequivocally.

But Toole knew that his patient was in a state of coma, from which he had no hope of his emerging.
So poor little Mrs.Sturk--as white as the plaster on the wall--who kept her imploring eyes fixed on the doctor's ruddy countenance, during his moments of deliberation, burst out into a flood of tears, and thanksgivings, and benedictions.
'He'll recover--something tells me he'll recover.

Oh! my Barney--darling--you will--you will.' 'While there's life--you know--my dear Ma'am,', said Toole, doing his best.