MAN TO MAN
Cleo made good her vow of perfect service. In the weeks which followed she made herself practically indispensable. Her energy was exhaustless, her strength tireless. She not only kept the baby and the little mother happy, she watched the lawn and the flowers. The men did no more loafing. The grass was cut, the hedges trimmed, every dead limb from shrub and tree removed and the old place began to smile with new life.
Her work of housekeeper and maid-of-all-work was a marvel of efficiency. No orders were ever given to her. They were unnecessary. She knew by an unerring instinct what was needed and anticipated the need.
And then a thing happened that fixed her place in the house on the firmest basis.
The baby had taken a violent cold which quickly developed into pneumonia. The doctor looked at the little red fever-scorched face and parched lips with grave silence. He spoke at last with positive conviction:
"His life depends on a nurse, Norton. All I can do is to give orders. The nurse must save him."
With a sob in her voice, Cleo said:
"Let me—I'll save him. He can't die if it depends on that."
The doctor turned to the mother.