be his doctor and to try a remedy the others have never thought of. Will you help me?"
"If I can," said Agatha. "What is your remedy?"
The old man pointed to the upper windows of the house again.
"Your lovely friend! Bring her to his bedside."
"If he is dying," said Agatha, "how would that help him?"
"He's dying for want of it. That's my idea at least, and I think it's worth trying. If a young man loves a beautiful woman, and, having never so much as touched the tip of her glove, falls into a mortal illness and wastes away, it requires no great wit to see that his illness doesn't come from his having indulged himself too grossly. It comes rather from the opposite cause! If he sinks when she's away, perhaps he'll come up when she's there. At any rate, that's my theory; and any theory is good that will save a dying man. Let the Diana come and stand a moment by his bed, and lay her hand upon his. We shall see what happens. If he gets well, it's worth while; if he doesn't, there is no harm done. A young lady risks nothing in going to see a poor gentleman who lies in a stupor between two holy women."
Agatha was much impressed with this picturesque reasoning, but she answered that it was quite impossible that her beautiful friend should go upon
