h met
his in an agony of inquiry.

"She is all right," said the physician, quickly. "She is doing extremely
well, and will soon be able to walk like other people. How upon earth
did you know?" he added, in some vexation, seeing that the sudden relief
from terrible anxiety was almost more than the lad could bear. "What
idiot told you?"

Bubble Chirk gave one great sob; but the next moment he controlled
himself. "Nobody told me," he said; "I knew. I can't tell you how, sir,
but--I knew!"

CHAPTER II.

MISS WEALTHY.

It was the 17th of June, and Miss Wealthy Bond was expecting her young
visitors. Twice she had gone over the house, with Martha trotting at her
heels, to see that everything was in order, and now she was making a
third tour of inspection; not because she expected to find anything
wrong, but because it was a pleasure to see that everything was right.

Miss Wealthy Bond was a very pretty old lady, and was very well aware of
the fact, having been told so during seventy years. "The Lord made me
pleasant to look at," she was wont to say, "and it is a great
privilege, my dear; but it is also a responsibility." She had lovely,
rippling silver hair, and soft blue eyes, and a complexion like a
girl's. She had put on to-day, for the first time, her summer
costume,--a skirt and jacket of striped white dimity, open a little at
the neck, with a kerchief of soft white net inside. This kerchief was
fastened with quite the prettiest brooch that ever was,--a pansy, made
of five deep, clear amethysts, set in a narrow rim of chased gold. Miss
Wealthy always wore this brooch; for in winter it harmonized as well
with her gown of lilac cashmere as it did in summer with the white
dimity. At her elbow stood Martha; it was her place in life. She seldom
had to be called; but was always there when Miss Wealthy wanted
anything, standing a step back, but close beside her beloved mistress.
Martha carried her aureole in her pocket, or somewhere else out of
sight; but she was a saint all the same. Her gray hair was smooth, and
she wore spectacles with silver rims, and a gray print gown, with the
sleeves invariably rolled up to the elbows, except on Sundays, when she
put on her black cashmere, and spent the afternoon in uneasy state.

"I think the room looks very pretty, Martha," said Miss Wealthy, for the
tenth time.

"It does, Mam," replied Martha, as heartily as if she had not heard the
remark before. "Proper nice it loo