here were care and tenderness in Gertrude, which only the warmest love
could have dictated. When Emily awoke at night from a troubled sleep,
she found a cooling draught ready at her lips, and knew from Mrs.
Ellis's deep snoring that it was not her hand that held it--when she
observed that all day long no troublesome fly was ever permitted to
approach her pillow, her aching head was relieved by hours of patient
bathing, and the little feet that were never weary were always
noiseless--she realised the truth that Dr. Jeremy had brought her a most
excellent medicine. A week or two passed away, and she was able to sit
up, though not yet able to leave her room. A few weeks more, and the
doctor began to insist upon air and exercise. "Drive out two or three
times every day," said he.

"How can I?" said Emily. "George has so much to do, it will be very
inconvenient."

"Let Gertrude drive you; she is a capital hand."

"Gertrude," said Emily, smiling, "I believe you are a great favourite of
the doctor's; he thinks you can do anything. You never drove, did you?"

"Hasn't she driven me to the depot every day for these six weeks?"
inquired the doctor.

"Is it possible?" asked Emily.

Upon her being assured this was the case, and the doctor insisting that
there was no danger, Charlie was harnessed into the carriage, and Emily
and Mrs. Ellis went out to drive with Gertrude, an experiment which,
being often repeated, was a source of health to the invalid, and
pleasure to them all. In the early autumn, when Emily's health was
restored, old Charlie was daily called into requisition; sometimes Mrs.
Ellis accompanied them, but, as she was often engaged in household
duties, they oft went by themselves, in a large, old-fashioned buggy,
and Emily declared that Gertrude's learning to drive had proved a great
source of happiness. Once or twice, in the course of the summer and
autumn, Gertrude saw again the lazy youth whom Dr. Jeremy had stumbled
over when he went to steal pears. Once he came and sat on the wall while
she was at work in her garden, professed himself astonished at her
activity, talked a little with her about her flowers, asked some
questions concerning her friend Dr. Jeremy, and ended by requesting to
know her name.

Gertrude blushed; she was sensitive about her name, and, though she went
by that of Flint, and did not think much about it, she could not fail to
remember, when the question was put to her point-blank, that sh