ys said,
could sit this way any length of time and be comfortable and
unconscious of his posture. Then he added slowly, and as if he had
given the subject some consideration, "You won't keep her long, I'm
afraid."

"Oh, don't say that," Jane cried with a nervous start. "I don't know
what I would do if she should marry."

"That don't sound like you, Miss Jane. You would be the first to deny
yourself. You are too good to do otherwise." He spoke with a slight
quiver in his voice, and yet with an emphasis that showed he believed
it.

"No; it is you who are good to think so," she replied in a softer tone,
bending her head as she spoke, her eyes intent on her fan. "And now
tell me," she added quickly, raising her eyes to his as if to bar any
further tribute he might be on the point of paying to her--"I hear your
mother takes greatly to heart your having refused the hospital
appointment."

"Yes, I'm afraid she does. Mother has a good many new-fashioned notions
nowadays." He laughed--a mellow, genial laugh; more in the spirit of
apology than of criticism.

"And you don't want to go?" she asked, her eyes fixed on his.

"Want to go? No, why should I? There would be nobody to look after the
people here if I went away. You don't want me to leave, do you?" he
added suddenly in an anxious tone.

"Nobody does, doctor," she replied, parrying the question, her face
flushing with pleasure.

Here Martha entered the room hurriedly and bending over Jane's
shoulder, whispered something in her ear. The doctor straightened
himself and leaned back out of hearing.

"Well, but I don't think she will take cold," Jane whispered in return,
looking up into Martha's face. "Has she anything around her?"

"Yes, your big red cloak; but the child's head is bare and there's
mighty little on her neck, and she ought to come in. The wind's begun
to blow and it's gettin' cold."

"Where is she?" Jane continued, her face showing her surprise at
Martha's statement.

"Out by the gate with that dare-devil. He don't care who he gives cold.
I told her she'd get her death, but she won't mind me."

"Why, Martha, how can you talk so!" Jane retorted, with a disapproving
frown. Then raising her voice so that the doctor could be brought into
the conversation, she added in her natural tone, "Whom did you say she
was with?"

"Bart Holt," cried Martha aloud, nodding to the doctor as if to get his
assistance in saving her bairn from possible danger.

Jane