"That's another queer thing. Tea is your panacea for all human ills; yet there isn't any nourishment in it. I'd rather have a glass of milk, thank you," said Mac, taking an easy-chair and stretching his feet to the fire.
She brought it to him and made him eat something; then, as he shut his eyes wearily, she went away to the piano, and having no heart to sing, played softly till he seemed asleep. But, at the stroke of six, he was up and ready to be off again.
"He gave me that: take it with you and put some on his hair; he likes it, and I do so want to help a little," she said, slipping the pretty flagon into his pocket, with such a wistful look, Mac never thought of smiling at this very feminine request.
"I'll tell him. Is there any thing else I can do for you, cousin?" he asked, holding the cold hand that had been serving him so helpfully.
"Only this: if there is any sudden change, promise to send for me, no matter at what hour it is: I must say 'Good-by.'"
"I will come for you. But, Rose, I am sure you may sleep in peace to-night; and I hope to have good news for you in the morning."
"Bless you for that! Come early, and let me see him soon. I will be very good, and I know it will not do him any harm."
"No fear of that: the first thing he said when he could speak was, 'Tell Rose carefully;' and, as I came
