arvellous strength begins to fail,--for it must fail,--she
will need me constantly. I can never, never feel alone while Aunt Marcia
lives."

"Hum!" said Doctor Stedman. "Well, good-by! Poison Maria's tea, and I'll
let you off with that. I'll send you up a powder of corrosive sublimate
in the morning--there! there! don't look horrified. You never can
understand--or I never can. I mean, I'll send you some bromide for
yourself. Don't tell me that you are sleeping well, for I know better.
Good-by, my dear!"

CHAPTER XVI.

DOCTOR STEDMAN'S PATIENT

Bright and early the next morning, Mrs. Pryor presented herself at Mrs.
Tree's door. It was another Indian summer morning, mild and soft. As she
came up the street, Mrs. Pryor had seen, or thought she had seen, a
figure sitting in the wicker rocking-chair on the porch. The chair was
empty now, but it was rocking--perhaps with the wind.

Direxia Hawkes answered the visitor's knock.

"How do you do, Direxia?" said Mrs. Pryor, in sprightly tones. "You
remember me, of course,--Miss Maria. Will you tell Mrs. Tree that I have
come, please?"

She made a motion to enter, but Direxia stood in the doorway, grim and
forbidding.

"Mis' Tree can't see anybody this morning," she said.

Mrs. Pryor smiled approvingly. "I see you are a good watch-dog, Direxia.
Very proper, I am sure, not to let my aunt, at her age, be annoyed by
ordinary visitors; but your care is unnecessary in this case. I will
just step into the parlor, and you can tell her that I am here. Probably
she will wish me to come up at once to her room, but you may as well go
first, just to prepare her. Any shock, however joyful, is to be avoided
with the aged."

She moved forward again, but Direxia Hawkes did not stir.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I am so; but I can't let you in, Mis' Pryor, I
can't nohow."

"Cannot let me in?" repeated Mrs. Pryor. "What does this mean? It is
some conspiracy. Of course I know there is a jealousy, but this is
too--stand aside this moment, my good creature, and don't be insolent,
or you will repent of it. I shall inform my aunt. Do you know who I
am?"

"Yes'm, I know well enough who you are. Yes'm, I know you are her own
niece, but if you was fifty nieces I couldn't let you in. She ain't
goin' to see a livin' soul to-day except Doctor Stedman. You might see
him, after he's ben here," she added, relenting a little at the keen
chagrin in the visitor's face.

Mrs. Pryor caught at t