ase--I've got the very best people in three
counties on my list. That's much better than the old doctor."

"Who are they, pray?" She was softening under her son's caress.

"Well, let me think. There's the distinguished Mr. Tatham, who attends
to the transportation of the cities of Warehold and Barnegat; and the
Right Honorable Mr. Tipple, and Mrs. and Miss Gossaway, renowned for
their toilets--"

Mrs. Cavendish bit her lip. When her son was in one of these moods it
was all she could do to keep her temper.

"And the wonderful Mrs. Malmsley, and--"

Mrs. Cavendish looked up. The name had an aristocratic sound, but it
was unknown to her.

"Who is she?"

"Why, don't you know the wonderful Mrs. Malmsley?" inquired the doctor,
with a quizzical smile.

"No, I never heard of her."

"Well, she's just moved into Warehold. Poor woman, she hasn't been out
of bed for years! She's the wife of the new butcher, and--"

"The butcher's wife?"

"The butcher's wife, my dear mother, a most delightful old person, who
has brought up three sons, and each one a credit to her."

Mrs. Cavendish let go her hold on the doctor's sleeve and settled back
in her chair.

"And you won't even write to Dr. Pencoyd?" she asked in a disheartened
way, as if she knew he would refuse.

"Oh, with pleasure, and thank him most kindly, but I couldn't leave
Barnegat; not now. Not at any time, so far as I can see."

"And I suppose when Jane Cobden comes home in a year or so she will
work with you in the hospital. She wanted to turn nurse the last time I
talked to her." This special arrow in her maternal quiver, poisoned
with her jealousy, was always ready.

"I hope so," he replied, with a smile that lighted up his whole face;
"only it will not be a year. Miss Jane will be here on the next
steamer."

Mrs. Cavendish put down her tea-cup and looked at her son in
astonishment. The doctor still kept his eyes on her face.

"Be here by the next steamer! How do you know?"

The doctor held up the letter.

"Lucy will remain," he added. "She is going to Germany to continue her
studies."

"And Jane is coming home alone?"

"No, she brings a little child with her, the son of a friend, she
writes. She asks that I arrange to have Martha meet them at the dock."

"Somebody, I suppose, she has picked up out of the streets. She is
always doing these wild, unpractical things. Whose child is it?"

"She doesn't say, but I quite agree with you that it was hel