"Georgie"
Georgia's eyes on the distant horizon were dreamy.
"Well," he said at last, "I'm not sure. A woman should be womanly. Don't you think so, Martin?"
But the labyrinth of Georgie's affections was beyond me, and seeing that no more was forthcoming I sent him home.
At night he came again in the lowest spirits.
"Diphtheria!" cried he from the other side of the lane.
I whistled. "Poor little chap!"
"Yes," said he slowly. "They rammed in anti-toxin at once, but he's very ill. Temperature's up like anything."
"Who's nursing him?"
Georgie's face lit up.
"Why, my mother. She's splendid. Turned every one out of the room and put an apron on. The doctor wanted to wire for an ambulance to have him carried off to the hospital, but she won't hear of it. Says it brings back me and the measles, and she's not going to let the child go for
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