ss of his had cooled her love
for him? I sat down as she bade me, and had my slippers brought, and
felt her fingers passed fondly through my hair.

"You have come back like a barbarian," she said, "rougher than Tardif
himself. How have you managed, my boy? You must tell me all about it as
soon as your hunger is satisfied."

"As soon as I have had my breakfast, mother, I must put up a few things
in a hamper to go back by the Sark cutter," I answered.

"What sort of things?" she asked. "Tell me, and I will be getting them
ready for you."

"Well, there will be some physic, of course," I said; "you cannot help
me in that. But you can find things suitable for a delicate appetite;
jelly, you know, and jams, and marmalade; any thing nice that comes to
hand. And some good port-wine, and a few amusing books."

"Books!" echoed my mother.

I recollected at once that the books she might select, as being suited
to a Sark peasant, would hardly prove interesting to my patient. I could
not do better than go down to Barbet's circulating library, and look out
some good works there.

"Well, no," I said; "never mind the books. If you will look out the
other things, those can wait."

"Whom are they for?" asked my mother.

"For my patient," I replied, devoting myself to the breakfast before me.

"What sort of a patient, Martin?" she inquired again.

"Her name is Ollivier," I said. "A common name. Our postmaster's name
is Ollivier."

"Oh, yes," she answered; "I know several families of Olliviers. I dare
say I should know this person if you could tell me her Christian name.
Is it Jane, or Martha, or Rachel?"

"I don't know," I said; "I did not ask."

Should I tell my mother about my mysterious patient? I hesitated for a
minute or two. But to what good? It was not my habit to talk about my
patients and their ailments. I left them all behind me when I crossed
the threshold of home. My mother's brief curiosity had been satisfied
with the name of Ollivier, and she made no further inquiries about her.
But to expedite me in my purpose, she rang, and gave orders for old
Pellet, our only man-servant, to find a strong hamper, and told the cook
to look out some jars of preserve.

The packing of that hamper interested me wonderfully; and my mother,
rather amazed at my taking the superintendence of it in person, stood by
me in her store-closet, letting me help myself liberally. There was a
good space left after I had taken sufficient to