outdoor photography,
which would put to blush any painted screens such as the village
photographers were accustomed to use.

He returned to give Miss Ruston his sanction of her project, and to
receive her half-mocking, wholly grateful acknowledgment.

"And I hope, Dr. Burns," said she, as he took leave of her, his watch in
his left hand as he shook hands with his right, "that you will let me
make that photograph of you, at the very beginning of my stay here."

"With a clump of hollyhocks behind me, or a 'queer old door'?" he
inquired.

"With nothing behind you except darkness and mystery," said she.

"I thought those were the things one looked toward, not out of?"

"Your patients looking toward 'the black unknown,' and seeing your face,
must find their future lighted with hope!"

He turned and looked at his wife, a sparkle in his eye. "She's from
the big town," said he. "Here in the country we don't know how to give
fine, fascinating blarney like that, eh? Good-bye, Miss Ruston, and good
luck. Bring the little grandmother carefully wrapped in jeweller's
cotton--nothing is too good for her!"

When luncheon was over Mrs. Burns and her guest went off for a long
drive, Miss Ruston being anxious to explore the region of which she had
heard as offering a field for her camera. The drive, taken in the
Macauley car, by Martha's invitation, and in the company of Martha
herself, Winifred Chester, and several children, prevented much
confidential talk between the two friends, and it was not until a few
minutes before train time, at five o'clock, that the two were for a brief
space again alone together.

"I'm so sorry you are not to be here at dinner," Ellen said, as Miss
Ruston repacked her small travelling bag, while the car waited outside to
take her to the station. "I should have liked you to meet our guest, Dr.
Leaver. He is an old friend of my husband's, who has been ill and is here
convalescing. He over-tired himself in taking a walk this morning, and
has been resting in his room all the afternoon."

Charlotte Ruston, adjusting a smart little veil before Ellen's mirror,
her back to her friend, asked, after a moment's pause:

"Dr. Leaver? Not Dr. John Leaver, of Baltimore?"

"Yes, indeed. Do you know him?"

"I have met him. Is he ill? I hadn't heard of that."

"He has worked very hard, and is worn out," explained Ellen, choosing her
terms carefully. Her husband had warned her against allowing any definite
new