doctor,--she went to join the consultation, which she presumed
concerned their removal from one street in Thorbury to another. But when
she discovered the heavenly prospect which had opened before her mother
and herself, her mind bounded from all thoughts of the manuscript of the
"Diagnosis of Sympathy," as if it had been a lark mounting to the sky.

CHAPTER XXV

BOMBSHELLS AND BROMIDE

About noon on the next day, Mrs. Tolbridge sat down at her desk to
finish the writing of the letter which had been so abruptly broken off
the day before. She had been very busy that afternoon and a part of this
morning, assisting Mrs. Drane and her daughter in their removal from a
hot street in a little town to the broad freedom and fine air of a
spacious country home.

And this change had given so much pleasure to all parties concerned that
it was natural that so good a woman as Mrs. Tolbridge should feel a glow
of satisfaction in thinking of the part she had taken in it.

She was satisfied in more ways than one: it was agreeable to her to
assist in giving pleasure to others, but besides this, she had a little
satisfaction which was peculiarly her own; she was pleased that that very
pretty and attractive Cicely would now work for the doctor, instead of
working so much with him. Of course she was willing to give up the little
room if it were needed, but it was a great deal pleasanter not to have
it needed.

"It is so seldom," she thought, as she lifted the lid of her desk, "that
things can be arranged so as to please everybody."

At this moment she glanced through the open window and saw Miss Panney at
the front gate. Closing her desk, Mrs. Tolbridge pushed back her chair,
her glow of satisfaction changing into a little chill.

"Is the doctor at home?" she inquired of the servant who was passing the
door, and on receiving the negative reply, the chilly feeling increased.

Miss Panney was in a radiant humor. She seated herself in her favorite
rocking-chair; she laid her fan on the table near her and her reticule by
it, and she pushed back from her shoulders a little India shawl.

"I am treating myself," she said, "to a regular gala day; in the first
place, I intend to stay here to luncheon. People who have a La Fleur must
expect to see their friends at their table much oftener than if they had
a Biddy in the kitchen. That is one of the penalties of good fortune. I
have my cap in my bag, and as soon as I have cooled a li