Not a sound or glimmer of light in Paradise as they speeded silently through the settlement! The club, too, was deserted.

“I think you are splendid to be willing to give up this ball to go to the aid of these old ladies,” said Dr. Wright, drawing the rug more closely around Helen, as the air was quite nipping.

“Why, the idea of my not doing it! You must think I’m nothing but a heartless butterfly.”

“I think you are anything but one. You love dancing, though, so much. I should have come alone. Somehow I couldn’t make up my mind to forego the ride alone with you. Isn’t it a beautiful night?”

The stars were shining brightly but the lazy moon had not yet gotten up.

“If we find the poor old lady not too ill, I’ll take you back to the dance after we have made her comfortable. There will be a moon to light our way later on.”

“That will be fine! Maybe they won’t even miss us. But somehow I have a feeling that Miss Ella is very ill.”

“Five minutes more will decide the question. Hasn’t my new car eaten up distance, though? Just think, in old days what a time sick persons had to wait for a physician without telephones and without cars!”

“Dr. Allison still drives a fast horse to a light buggy. Page says he will none of horseless carriages. I believe it is only recently that he has submitted to a telephone.”

“It is a good thing his medical theories have not kept pace with his means of locomotion, or he would be a back number sure.”

Valhalla was very quiet, peacefully sleeping under the stars. What a haven of refuge it had been to the Carters! Helen looked lovingly at the picturesque roof lines as the car glided rapidly past.

“Do you know, I think that must be the most restful place in all the world? I have grown so attached to the little tumbledown house, leaks and cracks, smoking stove and all.”

“Hasn’t it been awfully hard on you?”

“Not any harder on me than on the others!”

“I can’t tell you what I think of all of you Carter girls for the way you have grappled with the winter in the country. I think you have had the hot end of it, too.”

There flashed through Helen’s mind a picture of the first time she saw the young doctor, in the library of their pretty home in Richmond. There had been no approval in his cold glance then, nothing but censure and severity. She had deserved it all. Did she deserve the praise he gave her now?

“The hot end is better than the cold end during the winter months,” she laughed. “At least I can stay snugly in the kitchen and not have to go out in all weathers like poor Douglas and the other girls.”

Miss Louise met them at the door, tears rolling down her fat cheeks. She still was dressed in her stiff black silk but had tied on a great gingham apron over her best dress.

“How good of you to come to us!” was all she could sob out.

“You should have sent for us immediately,” said Helen, putting her arms around the trembling old woman.

“Ella always wants Dr. Allison, and I hated so to break up the pleasure of the young people.”

“Where is your sister?” asked Dr. Wright, taking off his gloves and great coat, and extracting a small leather case from its pocket.

“I got her to bed after she came to.”

“She is conscious then?”

“Yes, but very low, very low. She has been so docile I am afraid she is going to die,” and the poor lady began to weep anew.

“Let me go in with the doctor,” insisted Helen. “I can do what is necessary and you might scare Miss Ella. She mustn’t be made to think she is so ill.”

The tall form of Miss Ella was stretched on the great four-posted bed, and so still was it that for a moment Helen was afraid to go near.

“She might be dead! She might be dead!” her heart cried out, but she shut her mouth very tight and advanced bravely up to the bedside.

“Miss Ella, Dr. Wright has come to see you. Dr. Allison will be here later on perhaps.”

“I’ll be better in a few moments. I must have fainted,” she said weakly. “I ought not to have tried the angel food cake. It is so tedious. Louise told me not to, but I was very headstrong.”

Helen looked up apprehensively at the doctor, who was feeling the patient’s pulse. It did seem rather ominous for Miss Ella to be so humble and to confess that Louise’s judgment was of any importance.

“What did you eat for dinner?” asked the doctor.

“I—I—don’t remember.”

“Think!”

“I reckon I ate some bread.”

“Nothing else?”

“I can’t remember.”

At a nod from the doctor Helen went out to seek this information from Miss Louise, whom she found huddled up on the hall sofa.

“Eat for dinner! I am sure I don’t know. She wouldn’t eat when I did and I do believe she didn’t eat anything.”

“How about supper?”

“Oh, we neither one of us ate any supper. We felt it would be discourteous to the count after all the trouble and expense he must have gone to, with caterers from Richmond and all.”

Helen flew back to the bedside of Miss Ella.

“She ate no dinner that Miss Louise can remember and neither one of them ate any supper,” she cried.

“Well, of course she fainted then. Can you take the matter in hand and get some toast and tea for both of them? Miss Louise will be toppling over next.”

Helen was intimate enough with the old sisters to know just where they kept everything and in short order she had a tray ready for poor half-starved Miss Ella.

“It was not a stroke at all,” Dr. Wright assured the anxious sister. “Nothing but hunger.”

“I told her to eat,” and Miss Louise looked venomously at the invalid.

“I came to get my dinner and you had taken all the breast of the chicken. I wasn’t going to eat your leavings,” declared Miss Ella, color coming back into her wan cheeks and the fire of battle to her faded eyes. Helen laughed happily. The sisters were quarreling again and everything was assuming a more normal aspect.

“Now both of you ladies must get to bed,” insisted the doctor, after Miss Louise had been persuaded to eat some of Helen’s good toast.

“I think you have had ball enough for tonight.” He looked at his watch. “I will take you back to Weston,” he whispered to Helen.

Helen would not go until both of her old friends were tucked peacefully in their great bed and then, kissing them good-night, she stole quietly from the room. She was greatly relieved that things had turned out so well and delighted that she was to be taken back to the ball.

“It’s pretty nice to do your duty and still have a good time,” she said to herself.

Dr. Wright was waiting in the hall for her. He silently bundled her up in her cape and hood and together they stepped on the gallery.

The lazy moon was up now and outshining the faithful stars. The great box bushes and thick hedge cast deep shadows across the lawn. The two stood for a moment in silence, drinking in the beauty of the scene.

“We can’t lock the front door,” said Dr. Wright finally. “I see it has an old-fashioned great brass key and the only way to lock it is to fasten the old ladies in the house.”

“Why, nothing will ever hurt those dear old folks,” laughed Helen. “There are as safe as can be. They tell me they often go to bed without locking doors. They usually have a quarrel about whether the front door has been locked or not, and get so excited they both forget to do it.”