ediency and wisdom of his
management. He recalled every incident of his interview with Carry, and
half-believed that its failure was due to himself. Yet Mrs. Starbottle
was very patient and confident; her very confidence shook his faith in
his own judgment. When her strength was equal to the exertion, she was
propped up in her chair by the window, where she could see the school
and the entrance to the hotel. In the intervals she would elaborate
pleasant plans for the future, and would sketch a country home. She had
taken a strange fancy, as it seemed to Prince, to the present location;
but it was notable that the future, always thus outlined, was one of
quiet and repose. She believed she would get well soon; in fact, she
thought she was now much better than she had been, but it might be long
before she should be quite strong again. She would whisper on in this
way until Jack would dash madly down into the barroom, order liquors
that he did not drink, light cigars that he did not smoke, talk with men
that he did not listen to, and behave generally as our stronger sex is
apt to do in periods of delicate trials and perplexity.

The day closed with a clouded sky and a bitter, searching wind. With
the night fell a few wandering flakes of snow. She was still content
and hopeful; and, as Jack wheeled her from the window to the fire,
she explained to him how that, as the school term was drawing near its
close, Carry was probably kept closely at her lessons during the day,
and could only leave the school at night. So she sat up the greater part
of the evening, and combed her silken hair, and as far as her strength
would allow, made an undress toilet to receive her guest. "We must not
frighten the child, Jack," she said apologetically, and with something
of her old coquetry.

It was with a feeling of relief that, at ten o'clock, Jack received a
message from the landlord, saying that the doctor would like to see him
for a moment downstairs. As Jack entered the grim, dimly lighted parlor,
he observed the hooded figure of a woman near the fire. He was about to
withdraw again when a voice that he remembered very pleasantly said:

"Oh, it's all right! I'm the doctor."

The hood was thrown back, and Prince saw the shining black hair and
black, audacious eyes of Kate Van Corlear.

"Don't ask any questions. I'm the doctor, and there's my prescription,"
and she pointed to the half-frightened, half-sobbing Carry in the
corner--"to be