on, and Hannah, not quite sure what the present mood
might indicate, were both willing to leave to Polly the role she had
undertaken. Frieda sat quite near her, and watched her pretty bright
movements with gentle interest, maintaining a silence meanwhile only
surpassed in completeness by Dot's. Hannah rattled on, but there was a
hollowness in the rattle that made Catherine's hostess heart falter. She
was never fluent, herself. Her gentle art consisted in making her guests
entertain themselves and each other.

Then Dr. Helen came in, big, strong and competent, socially and in every
other way.

Her welcome to Frieda would have warmed an iceberg's heart. She hugged
Hannah, and gave her right hand to Polly and the left to Dot. "Give me a
taste of your tea, Daughter," she said, as she took off her gloves and
her hat and seated herself. "It will take something as strong as tea to
heal my weary spirit this afternoon. I've just had an emergency call."

Dr. Helen's eyes smiled reminiscently, and Dot awoke.

"Do tell us, do, do, Dr. Helen," she pleaded. "I know it's something
funny, by the twinkle in your eye. And we'll never, never tell."

Dr. Helen tasted her tea leisurely, and added a slice of lemon.

"I don't tell tales about my patients, but there is no sense in a rule
that isn't transgressed once in a while. You wouldn't know it was a
rule! And I do believe you girls will enjoy this and never tell."

"You 'give us credit for more discretion than you have, yourself?'"
quoted Catherine.

"If you like to put it that way! I was overtaken on my way home to greet
these visitors by a messenger from Mrs. Swinburne, saying that Elsmere
was very ill. It is a wonder that he has lived as long as he has, with
his reckless tendencies and such erratic care. So I hastened over to the
house. Mrs. Swinburne was in a mild state of hysterics, and it was some
time before I could quiet her enough to learn the difficulty. Then my
alarm vanished, changed to wrath, would perhaps be more accurate.
Elsmere had eaten all her pills! They were pills that would not have
hurt a cat. Mrs. Swinburne's ailments are of a nature to require very
weak remedies."

"Bread and butter?" asked Dot, with a twinkle as merry as the doctor's
own.

"Something of that sort! But Elsmere did not know that. They might have
been morphia or arsenic for all he knew. The principle in his case was
the same. His mother said 'no symptoms had set in as yet,' but she
wante