Curtis Waring, nearing the accomplishment¹ of his plans, was far from anticipating impending² disaster.

 

His uncle’s health had become so poor, and his strength had been so far undermined, that it was thought desirable to employ a sick nurse. An advertisement was inserted in a morning paper, which luckily attracted the attention of Bolton.

 

“You must go, Mrs. O’Keefe,” he said to the apple-woman. “It is important that we have some one in the house—some friend of Florence and the boy—to watch what is going on.”

 

“Bridget O’Keefe is no fool. Leave her to manage.”

 

The result was that among a large number of applicants³ Mrs. O’Keefe was selected by Curtis as Mr. Linden’s nurse, as she expressed herself willing to work for four dollars a week, while the lowest outside demand was seven.

 

We will now enter the house, in which the last scenes of our story are to take place.

 

Mr. Linden, weak and emaciated⁴, was sitting in an easy-chair in his library.

 

“How do you feel this morning, uncle?” asked Curtis, entering the room.

 

“I am very weak, Curtis. I don’t think I shall ever be any better.”

 

“I have engaged a nurse, uncle, as you desired, and I expect her this morning.”

 

“That is well, Curtis. I do not wish to confine you to my bedside.”

 

“The nurse is below,” said Jane, the servant, entering.

 

“Send her up.”

 

Mrs. O’Keefe entered in the sober attire⁵ of a nurse. She dropped a curtsey.

 

“Are you the nurse I engaged?” said Curtis.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Your name, please.”

 

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