he wedding dress, and about the
mother who had called her Harmony because of the hope in her heart.
And soon, by dint of skillful listening, which is always better than
questioning, the faded little woman doctor knew all the story.

She was rather aghast.

"But suppose you cannot find anything to do?"

"I must," simply.

"It's such a terrible city for a girl alone."

"I'm not really alone. I know you now."

"An impoverished spinster! Much help I shall be!"

"And there is Peter Byrne."

"Peter!" Dr. Gates sniffed. "Peter is poorer than I am, if there is any
comparison in destitution!"

Harmony stiffened a trifle.

"Of course I do not mean money," she said. "There are such things as
encouragement, and--and friendliness."

"One cannot eat encouragement," retorted Dr. Gates sagely. "And
friendliness between you and any man--bah! Even Peter is only human, my
dear."

"I am sure he is very good."

"So he is. He is very poor. But you are very attractive. There, I'm a
skeptic about men, but you can trust Peter. Only don't fall in love with
him. It will be years before he can marry. And don't let him fall in
love with you. He probably will."

Whereupon Dr. Gates taking herself and her pink flannel off to prepare
for lunch, Harmony sent a formal note to Peter Byrne, regretting that
a headache kept her from taking the afternoon walk as she had promised.
Also, to avoid meeting him, she did without dinner, and spent the
afternoon crying herself into a headache that was real enough.

Anna Gates was no fool. While she made her few preparations for dinner
she repented bitterly what she had said to Harmony. It is difficult for
the sophistry of forty to remember and cherish the innocence of twenty.
For illusions it is apt to substitute facts, the material for the
spiritual, the body against the soul. Dr. Gates, from her school of
general practice, had come to view life along physiological lines.

With her customary frankness she approached Peter after the meal.

"I've been making mischief, Peter. I been talking too much, as usual."

"Certainly not about me, Doctor. Out of my blameless life--"

"About you, as a representative member of your sex. I'm a fool."

Peter looked serious. He had put on the newly pressed suit and his best
tie, and was looking distinguished and just now rather stern.

"To whom?"

"To the young Wells person. Frankly, Peter, I dare say at this moment
she thinks you are everything you should