rust, Direxia!" he asked, anxiously. "I have been
out of town, and am only just back."

"Hush!" whispered Direxia, with a glance toward the parlor door. "I
don't know; I can't make out--"

"Come in, James Stedman!" called Mrs. Tree from the parlor. "Don't stand
there gossiping with Direxia; I didn't send for you to see her."

Direxia lifted her hands and eyes with an eloquent gesture. "She is the
beat of all!" she murmured, and fled to her kitchen.

Entering the parlor Doctor Stedman found Mrs. Tree sitting by the fire
as usual, with her feet on the fender. Sitting, but not attired, as
usual. She was dressed, or rather enveloped, in a vast quilted wrapper
of flowered satin, tulips and poppies on a pale buff ground, and her
head was surmounted by the most astonishing nightcap that ever the mind
of woman devised. So ample and manifold were its flapping borders, and
so small the keen brown face under them, that Doctor Stedman, though not
an imaginative person, could think of nothing but a walnut set in the
centre of a cauliflower.

"Good afternoon, James Stedman!" said the old lady. "I am sick, you
see."

"I see, Mrs. Tree," said the doctor, glancing from the wrapper and cap
to the bowl and spoon that stood on the violet-wood table. He had seen
these things before. "You don't feel seriously out of trim, I hope?"

Mrs. Tree fixed him with a bright black eye.

"At my age, James, everything is serious," she said, gravely. "You know
that as well as I do."

"Yes, I know that!" said Doctor Stedman. He laid his hand on her wrist
for a moment, then returned her look with one as keen as her own.

"Have you any symptoms for me?"

"I thought that was your business!" said the patient.

"Hum!" said Doctor Stedman. "How long, have you been--a--feeling like
this?"

"Ever since yesterday; no, the day before. I am excessively nervous,
James. I am unfit to talk, utterly unfit; I cannot see people. I want
you to keep people away from me for--for some days. You must see that I
am unfit to see anybody!"

"Ha!" said Doctor Stedman.

"It agitates me!" cried the old lady. "At my age I cannot afford to be
agitated. Have some orange cordial, James; do! it is in the Moorish
cabinet there, the right-hand cupboard. Yes, you may bring two glasses
if you like; I feel a sinking. You see that I am in no condition for
visitors."

The corners of Doctor Stedman's gray beard twitched; but he poured a
small portion of the cordial into two