e him again. She slept little, and in the morning was weary and
exhausted. But he had set her the grand example of placing work before
every thing else, and she would do as he taught her. So, in the name of
her lover, and in spite of her headache, she rose to her day's duty.
Love delights to put on the livery of the loved.

After breakfast, as was their custom, Dorothy walked with her to the
place where she gave her first lesson. The nearest way led past the
house of the doctor; but hitherto, as often as she could frame fitting
reason, generally on the ground that they were too early, and must make
a little longer walk of it, Juliet had contrived to avoid turning the
corner of Mr. Drew's shop. This day, however, she sought no excuse, and
they went the natural road. She wanted to pass his house--to get a
glimpse of him if she might.

As they approached it, they were startled by a sudden noise of strife.
The next instant the door of the surgery, which was a small building
connected with the house by a passage, flew open, and a young man was
shot out. He half jumped, half fell down the six or eight steps, turned
at once, and ran up again. He had rather a refined look, notwithstanding
the annoyance and resentment that discomposed his features. The mat had
caught the door and he was just in time to prevent it from being shut in
his face.

"I will _not_ submit to such treatment, Mr. Faber," cried the youth. "It
is not the part of a gentleman to forget that another is one."

"To the devil with your _gentleman!_" they heard the doctor shout in a
rage, from behind the half-closed door. "The less said about the
gentleman the better, when the man is nowhere!"

"Mr. Faber, I will allow no man to insult me," said the youth, and made
a fierce attempt to push the door open.

"You are a wretch below insult," returned the doctor; and the next
moment the youth staggered again down the steps, this time to fall, in
awkward and ignominious fashion, half on the pavement, half in the road.

Then out on the top of the steps came Paul Faber, white with wrath, too
full of indignation to see person or thing except the object of it.

"You damned rascal!" he cried. "If you set foot on my premises again, it
will be at the risk of your contemptible life."

"Come, come, Mr. Faber! this won't do," returned the youth, defiantly,
as he gathered himself up. "I don't want to make a row, but--

"_You_ don't want to make a row, you puppy! Then _I_