Reuben, who had been stationed near his master's bed, caught the last words and exclaimed, "Who but me, Massa?"
Eyeing him critically, the doctor said: "Ever had any experience in fevers?"
"Yes, Massa. Yaller Jack, break bone, intermittent, remittent, congestive, typhoid, small pox—"
"I reckon you have then," returned the doctor. "Where were you raised?"
"New Orleans, Massa."
"Ever worked in the charity hospital there?"
"Law me, Massa, I has so!"
Doctor Hoff looked satisfied, and after giving careful directions left, promising to come the next day.
Needless to dwell on the anxious weeks to follow. Reuben never left his post, faithfully recording every symptom even when others would gladly have relieved him. His black lips were almost constantly moving in prayer and who shall say that they did not penetrate to the "Throne of Grace." At last the change came and when Doctor Hoff
