e was a moment's pause, and then,
"Let them talk!" said the girl softly. "It can't make any difference, to
them, how often Dr. Callandar calls."

Mrs. Coombe looked doubtful, hesitated once more, but finally turned
away without speaking. As she went, she cast a careless glance at Aunt
Amy, who stood just within the kitchen doorway, a curiously watchful
look in her usually expressionless eyes.

"Berries all ready, Auntie," said Esther cheerfully. "What's the matter
with me as a Saturday Help?"

But Aunt Amy did not smile as she usually did.

"She's gone to get dressed," she said abruptly, indicating with a
backward gesture Mrs. Coombe's retiring figure.

"Well?"

"For him. She's gone to get dressed for him."

Esther was puzzled. "Why shouldn't she? Oh, I forget you didn't know!
It's quite a romance. Mother used to know Dr. Callandar when she was a
girl. 'We twa hae rin aboot the braes,' you know. Only it seems so
funny. Fancy, Dr. Callandar and mother! But we shan't have to worry any
more about her health. She can't possibly avoid him now."

Aunt Amy was not listening. The curiously watchful look was still in her
eyes and suddenly, apropos of nothing, she began to wring her hands in
the strange, dumb way which always preceded one of her characteristic
mental agonies,--agonies which, far beyond her understanding as they
were, never failed to awake profound compassion in Esther.

"What is it, dear?" she asked gently. "Are you not so well?"

"Don't you ever feel things, Esther? Don't you ever sense
things--coming?"

"No, dear. And neither do you, when you are well. You are tired." She
placed her hands firmly upon the locked hands of Aunt Amy and with
tender force attempted to separate them. But Jane, who had been a silent
but interested spectator, spoke eagerly.

"Don't, Esther! Do let her tell us what is coming. You know she always
tells right when she wrings her hands. Go on, Auntie--"

"Jane, be quiet! I'll tell you why afterwards. Auntie dear, sit down."

'Aunt Amy's hands relaxed and the strange look faded. "It's nothing,"
she said. "It's gone! I must be more careful. Do not mention it to your
mother, children. She might think me queer again, and I am not at all
queer any more. You have noticed that I'm not, haven't you, Esther? I'll
do anything you say, my dear."

"Then lie out in the hammock while I get supper. The berries are all
ready. Then we'll all get dressed. Jane may wear one of her new frock