rs.
Coombe simpered. "He recognised me at once!" with faint emphasis on
the pronouns.

The girl choked down a rising inclination to laugh.

"Why shouldn't he? I suppose you haven't changed very much."

"Hardly at all, he says; at least he says he would have known me
anywhere. But it's quite a long time, you know, terribly long. I was a
young girl then. Naturally, he was much older."

"I should have thought so. That's why it seems queer--your having been
schoolmates."

Mrs. Coombe looked cross. "I did not mean schoolmates in that sense."

"Oh, merely in a Pickwickian sense!" Esther's laugh bubbled out.

Mary arose. She was afraid to risk more at present, until she had been
to her room and--rested awhile. "You are rude, as usual," she said with
dignity. "When I said that Dr. Callandar and I were schoolmates I meant
simply that we were old friends, that we knew each other when we were
both younger. I do not see anything at all humorous in the statement."

"No, of course not!" with quick compunction. "It's quite lovely. Just
like a book. Why didn't he come in?"

The question was so cleverly casual that no one could have guessed the
girl's consuming interest in the answer. But its cleverness had overshot
the mark, for so colourless was the tone in which it was asked that Mary
did not notice it at all. Instead she retreated steadily along her
own line.

"I hope I always treat your friends with proper courtesy, Esther. And I
shall expect you to do the same with mine. Dr. Callandar is a very old
friend indeed. Should he call to-night I wish you to receive him
as such."

"I'll try," said the girl demurely.

The way of escape was now open, but Mrs. Coombe hesitated. She seemed to
have something else to say. Something which did not come easily. "It's
horrid living in a town like Coombe," she burst out. "People always want
to know everything. We met the elder Miss Sinclair on the river
road--you know what that means! If people ask you any question--or
anything--you had better tell them at once that Dr. Callandar is not a
stranger."

"I should not dream of suppressing the fact."

"You see," again that odd hesitation, "he may call--rather often.
And--people talk so easily."

Despite her care, Esther's sensitive face flamed in answer to the
quickened beat of her heart. What an odd thing for her mother to say!
What did she mean? Was it possible that he had already told her--asked
her? Or had she merely guessed? Ther