ke up their vain discussion, and came
for another visit of personal inspection.

'Mother, this is the doctor come to see you. Do you not remember the
doctor?'

The old lady looked at all four of them brightly enough. 'I haena the
pleasure of remembering who ye are, but perhaps it will return to me.'
There was restrained politeness in her manner.

The doctor spoke. 'It's a very bad tale I'm hearing about you to-day,
that you've begun to refuse your meat. A person of your experience,
Mistress Macdonald, ought to know that we must eat to live.' He had a
basin of food in his hand. 'Now just to please me, Mistress Macdonald.'

The old dame answered with the air that a naughty child or a pouting
maiden might have had. 'I'll no eat it--tak' it away! I'll no eat it.
Not for you, no--nor for my mither there'--she looked defiantly at her
grey-haired daughter--'no, nor for my father himself!'

'Not a mouthful has passed her lips to-day,' moaned Miss Macdonald. She
wrung excited hands and stepped back a pace into the shadow; she felt
too modest to pose as her mother's mother before the curious eyes of the
two men.

The old lady appeared relieved when the spinster was out of her sight.
'I don't know ye, gentlemen, but perhaps now my mither's not here, ye'll
tell me who it was that rang the door-bell a while since.'

The men hesitated. They were neither of them ready with inventions.

She leaned towards the doctor, strangely excited. 'Was it Mr. Kinnaird?'
she whispered.

The doctor supposed her to be frightened. 'No, no,' he said in cheerful
tones; 'you're mistaken--it wasn't Kinnaird.'

She leaned back pettishly. 'Tak' away the broth; I'll no' tak' it!'

The discomfited four passed out of the room again. The women were
weeping; the men were shaking their heads.

It was just then that the new servant passed into the sick-room, bearing
candles in her hands.

'Jeanie, Jeanie Trim,' whispered the old lady. The whisper had a
sprightly yet mysterious tone in it; the withered fingers were put out
as if to twitch the passing skirt as the housemaid went by.

The girl turned and bent a look--strong, helpful, and kindly--upon this
fine ruin of womanhood. The girl had wit 'Yes, ma'am?' she answered
blithely.

'I'll speak with ye, Jeanie, when this woman goes away; it's her that my
mither's put to spy on me.'

The nurse retired into the shadow of the wardrobe.

'She's away now,' said the maid.

'Jeanie, is it Mr. Kinnaird