nd delightful to use.

When Mrs. St. John went away Major Buller came back.

"I am sorry I banged the door, my dear," said he kindly, "but whatever
the tempers of girls may be made of at fifteen, mine is by no means
perfect, I regret to say, at fifty; and I _cannot_ stand that woman. My
dear Theresa, let me implore you to put all this trash out of your head
and get proper medical advice for the child at once. And--I don't like
to seem unreasonable, my dear, but--if you must read those delectable
articles to which Mrs. St. John refers, I wish you'd read them at her
house, and not bring them into ours. I'd rather the coarsest novel that
ever was written were picked up by the children, if the broad lines of
good and evil were clearly marked in it, than this morbid muddle of
disease and crime, and unprincipled parents and practitioners."

Uncle Buller seldom interfered so warmly; indeed, he seldom interfered
at all. I think Aunt Theresa would have been glad if he would have
advised her oftener.

"Indeed, Edward," said she, "I'll do anything you think right. And I'm
sure I wouldn't read anything improper myself, much less let the
children. And as to the _Milliner and Mantuamaker_ you need not be
afraid of that coming into the house unless I send for it. Mrs. St. John
is always promising to lend me the fashion-book, but she never remembers
it."

"And you'll have proper advice for Matilda at once?"

"Certainly, my dear."

Mrs. Buller was in the habit of asking the regimental Surgeon's advice
in small matters, and of employing a civilian doctor (whose fees made
him feel better worth having) in serious illness. She estimated the
seriousness of a case by danger rather than delicacy. So the Surgeon
came to see Matilda, and having heard her cough, promised to send a
"little something," and she was ordered to keep indoors and out of
draughts, and take a tablespoonful three times a day.

Matilda had not gone graciously through the ordeal of facing the
principal Surgeon in his uniform, and putting out her tongue for his
inspection; and his prescriptions did not tend to reconcile her to being
"doctored." Fresh air was the only thing that hitherto had seemed to
have any effect on her aches and pains, or to soothe her hysterical
irritability, and of this she was now deprived. When Aunt Theresa
called in an elderly civilian practitioner, she was so sulky and
uncommunicative, and so resolutely refused to acknowledge to any
ailmen