Late in January Michael was taking his nightly walk homeward by way of the Endicott home. He was convinced that Starr was still away from home, for he had seen no lights now for several weeks in the room that he knew was her own, but there was always the chance that she might have returned.

He was nearing the house when he saw from the opposite direction a man turn the corner and with halting gait come slowly toward the house and pause before the steps uncertainly. Something familiar in the man's attitude caused Michael to hasten his steps, and coming closer he found that it was Mr. Endicott himself, and that he stood looking up the steps of his home as though they had been a difficult hill which he must climb.

Michael stopped beside him, saying good evening, the thrill of his voice conveying his own joy in the meeting in addition to a common greeting.

"Is that you, Son?" asked the older man swaying slightly toward him. "I'm glad you came. I feel strangely dizzy. I wish you'd help me in."

Michael's arm was about the other's shoulders at once and his ready strength almost lifted his benefactor up the steps. His steady hand with the key made short work of the night latch, and without waiting to call a servant he helped Mr. Endicott up to his room and to his bed.

The man sank back wearily with a sigh and closed his eyes, then suddenly roused himself.

"Thank you, Son; and will you send a message to Starr that I am not able to come on to-night as I promised? Tell her I'll likely be all right to-morrow and will try to come then. You'll find the address at the head of the telephone list in the hall there. I guess you'll have to 'phone for the doctor. I don't seem to feel like myself. There must be something the matter. I think I've taken a heavy cold."

Michael hurried to the 'phone and called up the physician begging him to come at once, for he could see that Mr. Endicott was very ill. His voice trembled as he gave the message to the Western Union over the 'phone. It seemed almost like talking to Starr, though he sent the telegram in her father's name.

The message sent, he hurried back to the sick man, who seemed to have fallen in a sort of stupor. His face was flushed and hot, the veins in his temples and neck were throbbing rapidly. In all his healthy life Michael had seen little of illness, but he recognized it now and knew it must be a violent attack. If only he knew something to do until the doctor should arrive!




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