all a man can, to oblige you, Mary, as well as to serve the
sick. If Dr. Sage should not be at home, am I to look for another
physician, Mr. Pratt?"

"Sage _must_ be at home--we can employ no other. Your old,
long-established physicians understand how to consider practice, and don't
make mistakes--by the way, Gar'ner, you needn't mention _my_ name in the
business, at all. Just say that a sick man, at the Widow White's, needs
his services, and that you had _volunteered_ to take him across. _That_
will bring him--I know the man."

Again Gardiner understood what the deacon meant. He was just as desirous
of not paying the physician as of not paying the messenger. Mary
understood him, too and, with a face still more sad than anxiety had
previously made it, she walked into the house, leaving her uncle and lover
in the porch. After a few more injunctions from the former, in the way of
prudent precaution, the latter departed, hurrying down to the water-side,
in order to take to the boat.

Chapter III.

"All that glisters is not gold,
Often have you heard that told;
Many a man his life hath sold,
But my outside to behold."

_Merchant of Venice._

No sooner was Deacon Pratt left alone, than he hastened to the humble
dwelling of the Widow White. The disease of Daggett was a general decay
that was not attended with much suffering. He was now seated in a homely
armchair, and was able to converse. He was not aware, indeed, of the real
danger of his case, and still had hopes of surviving many years. The
deacon came in at the door, just as the widow had passed through it, on
her way to visit another crone, who lived hard by, and with whom she was
in the constant habit of consulting. She had seen the deacon in the
distance, and took that occasion to run across the road, having a sort of
instinctive notion that her presence was not required when the two men
conferred together. What was the subject of their frequent private
communications, the Widow White did not exactly know; but what she
imagined, will in part appear in her discourse with her neighbour, the
Widow Stone.

"Here's the deacon, ag'in!" cried the Widow White, as she bolted hurriedly
into her friend's presence. "This makes the third time he has been at _my_
house since yesterday morning. What _can_ he mean?"

"Oh! I dare say, Betsy, he means no more than to visit the sick, as he
pretends is the reason of his many visits."

"You forget it is