"Oh, mother didn't know!" she sobbed. "Mother didn't guess what terrible things were happening! Oh, forgive her! Forgive her!"

The Doctor came to her side. "Too much excitement for the patient," he reminded her. "Don't you think you'd better go and lie down for a while, and have a little rest?"

A startled look. And Gwendolyn put out a staying hand to her mother.

Then--"Moth-er _is_ tired," she assented. "She's tireder than I am.

'Cause it was hard work going round and round Robin Hood's Barn."

The Doctor hunted a small wrist and felt the pulse in it. "That's all right," he said to her mother in an undertone. "Everything's still pretty real to her, you see. But her pulse is normal," He laid cool fingers across her forehead. "Temperature's almost normal too."

Gwendolyn felt that she had not made herself altogether clear. She hastened to explain. "I mean," she said, "when moth-er was carrying that society bee in her bonnet."

Confusion showed in the Doctor's quick glance from parent to parent.

Then, "I think I'll just drop down into the pantry," he said hastily, "and see how that young nurse from over yonder is getting along." He jerked a thumb in the direction of the side window as he went out.

Gwendolyn wondered just who the young nurse was. She opened her lips to ask; then saw how painfully her mother had colored at the mere mention of the person in question, and so kept silence.

The Doctor gone, her father came to her mother's side and patted a shoulder. "Well, we shan't ever say anything more about that bee," he declared, laughing, yet serious enough. "_Shall_ we, Gwendolyn!"

"No." She blinked, puzzling over it a little.

"There! It's settled." He bent and kissed his wife. "You thought you were doing the best thing for our little girl--_I_ know that, dear. You had her future in mind. And it's natural--and _right_--for a mother to think of making friends--the right kind, too--and a place in the social world for her daughter. And I've been short-sighted, and neglectful, and--"

"Ah!" She raised wet eyes to him. "You had your worries. You were doing _more_ than your share. You had to meet the question of money. While I--"

He interrupted her. "We _both_ thought we were doing our very best," he declared.

"We almost did our worst! Oh, what would it all have amounted to--what would _anything_ have mattered--if we'd lost our little girl!"

The pink came rushing to Gwendolyn's cheeks. "Why, I wasn't lost at all!" she declared happily. "And, oh, it was so good to have my questions all answered, and understand so many things I didn't once--and to be where all the put-out lights go, and--and where soda-water comes from. And I was _so_ glad to get rid of Thomas and Jane and Miss Royle, and--"

The hall-door opened. She checked herself to look that way. Someone was entering with a tray. It was a maid--_a maid wearing a sugar-bowl cap_.

Gwendolyn knew her instantly--that pretty face, as full and rosy as the face of the French doll, and framed by saucy wisps and curls as fair as Gwendolyn's own--and freckleless!

"Oh!" It was a low cry of delight.

The nurse smiled. She had a tray in one hand. On the tray was a blue bowl of something steaming hot. She set the tray down and came to the bed-side.

Gwendolyn's eyes were wide with wonder. "How--how--?" she began.

Her mother answered. "Jane called down to the Policeman, and he ran to the house on the corner."

Now the dimples sprang into place, "Goody!" exclaimed Gwendolyn, and gave a little chuckle.

Her mother went on: "We never can feel grateful enough to her, because she was such a help. And we're so glad you're friends already."

Gwendolyn nodded. "She's one of my window-friends," she explained.

"I'm going to stay with you," said the nurse. She smoothed Gwendolyn's hair fondly. "Will you like that?"

"It's fine! I--I wanted you!"

The Doctor re-entered. "Well, how does our sharp little patient feel now?" he inquired.

"I feel hungry."

"I have some broth for you," announced the pretty nurse, and brought forward the tray.

Gwendolyn looked down at the bowl. "M-m-m!" she breathed. "It smells good! Now"--to the Doctor--"if I had one of your nice bread-pills--"

At that, curiously enough, everyone laughed, the Doctor heartiest of all. And "Hush!" chided her mother gently while the Doctor shook a teasing finger.

"Just for that," said he, "we'll have eating--and _no_ conversation--for five whole minutes." Whereupon he began to scribble on a pad, laughing to himself every now and then as he wrote.

"That must be a cheerful prescription," observed Gwendolyn's father. He himself looking happier than he had.

"The country," answered the Doctor, "is always cheerful."

Gwendolyn's spoon slipped from her fingers. She lifted eager, shining eyes. "Moth-er," she half-whispered, "does the Doctor mean _Johnnie Blake's?_"

The Doctor assented energetically. "I _prescribe_ Johnnie Blake's," he declared.

"A-a-ah!" It was a deep breath of happiness. "I _promised_ Johnnie that I'd come back!"

"But if my little daughter isn't strong--" Her father gave a sidewise glance at the steaming bowl on the tray.

Thus prompted, Gwendolyn fell to eating once more, turning her attention to the _croutons_ bobbing about on the broth Each was square and crunchy, but not so brown as a bread-pill.

"I shall now read my Johnnie Blake prescription," announced the Doctor, and held up a leaf from the pad. "Hm! Hm!" Then, in a business-like tone; "_Take two pairs of sandals, a dozen cheap gingham dresses with plenty of pockets and extra pieces for patches, and a bottle of something good for wild black-berry scratches_." He bowed. "_Mix all together with one strong medium-sized garden-hoe_--"

"Oh, fath-er," cried Gwendolyn, her hoarse voice wistful with pleading, "_you_ won't mind if I play with Johnnie, _will_ you?"

"Play all the time," answered her father. "Play hard--and then play some more."

"He _isn't_ a common little boy." Whereupon, satisfied, she returned to the blue bowl.

"And now," went on the Doctor, "as to directions." He held up other leaves from the pad. "First week (you'll have to go easy the first week), use the prescription each day as follows; When driving; also when lying on back watching birds in trees (and have a nap out of doors if you feel like it); also when lighting the fire at sundown. Nurse, here, will watch out for fingers."

At that, another pleased little chuckle.

"Second week:" (the Doctor coughed, importantly) "When riding your own fat pony, or chasing butterflies--assisted by one good-natured, common, ordinary, long-haired dog; or when fishing (stream or bath-tub, it doesn't matter!) or carrying kindling in to Cook--whether you're tired or not!"

"I _love_ it!"

"Third week: When baking mudpies, or gathering ferns (but put 'em in water when you get home); when jaunting in old wagon to hay-field, orchard or vegetable-patch--this includes tomboy yelling. And go barefoot."

Gwendolyn's spoon, _crouton_-laden, wabbled in mid-air. "Go _barefoot?_"

she repeated, small face flushing to a pleased pink. "Right _away?_ Before I'm eight?"