y at this particular season," he said,
"especially up among these Connecticut hills, that a physician's
occupation's gone."

First, however, he went down town--going part of the way with Ruth--to
make sure that no orders were awaiting him at his office, intending to
come back immediately.

Miss Custer stepped across the hall from the dining-room into the
sitting-room, made cool by having the blinds closed, and struck a few
chords on the piano. Herbert Bruce, a young attorney of some wealth and
some renown, and bosom friend of Doctor Ebling, followed her, and stood,
hat in hand, with his shoulder against the door-jamb. "So you have never
read _The Gypsy_?" he remarked.

Miss Custer turned quickly and came a step toward him. "Oh yes, I have
read it," she returned. "Or, rather, a good many people have read it to
me. But one can stand hearing a poem a good many times, you know."

"By Jove! that's a cooler!" thought Bruce. "No doubt she has been bored
to death by that wretched _Gypsy_, and now Ebling is going to martyrize
her again, and make a fool of himself into the bargain."

"Won't you be seated?" Miss Custer asked, "and let me play you
something?"

In the shaded room, with her languid eyes intensified, she was a decided
brunette, and a very brilliant and beautiful one. Mr. Bruce, pleading
business, although he knew there was not a soul stirring down street,
and nothing more to be done in his office than in that of Mortimer
Lightwood, Esq., declined rather ungraciously and stalked off.

"A born coquette!" he muttered with his hat pulled over his eyes.
"Ebling's a fool: Ruth Stanley is worth a dozen of her."

Miss Custer went up stairs and made her afternoon toilette, then got out
her embroidery and came down to her accustomed rustic arm-chair,
smilingly conscious of the perfection of all that pertained to herself,
from the soft ringlets on her broad forehead, so different from the
stiff, frowsy crimps of the country-girls, to the small Newport ties
with their cardinal-red bows, the only bright color about her. She was
just beginning to wonder what kept the doctor so long, when, raising her
eyes from a reverie which had been almost a nap, she saw him driving by
at a fast trot, with a farm-boy galloping on horseback beside him. He
waved his hand to her.

Just then Hugh, son and heir of Aunt Ruby, mistress of this Westbrook
boarding-establishment, who had been sent down town after dinner to do
some marketing, cam