WILLFUL VIOLET HAS HER OWN WAY.
That same evening a thoroughly competent nurse was installed by Violet's bedside, and Mrs. Mencke, having given certain directions regarding the care of her sister, returned to her home on Auburn avenue.
She came every day afterward, however, to ascertain how Violet was progressing, and though for a week her fever ran very high, and the doctor considered her alarmingly ill, yet at the end of that time she began slowly but surely to mend.
Consciousness returned, and with it the memory of all that had occurred on that never-to-be-forgotten day, while she talked continually of the brave young man who had saved her life.
When she was first told that she was in the same house with him, the rich color suffused her face, and an eager look of interest leaped into her eyes.
"In his home—am I? How strange!" she murmured; "how did it happen that I was brought here?"
"Those who found you thought that you were brother and sister," the nurse told her, thinking it no harm that she should know all the details, if she did not get excited. "They found you together, one of his arms clasping you close to him, and both your hands locked about his neck."
A burning blush shot up to the girl's golden hair at this information.
"He told me to—to cling to him," she said, in a low tone.