emies in Pattaquasset--that you know?"

It was merciless in the doctor; for through all this time she had been
in a state of confusion--as he knew--that made speech undesirable,
though she had spoken. And she didn't answer him now, except by a
quickly withdrawn glance.

"Who do you suppose loves him well enough," pursued the doctor, "to
send a charge of duck shot into him like that?"

A sudden little cry of pain, driven back before it was well begun, was
heard and but just heard, from Faith. The doctor looked up.

"I was afraid this--Are you faint?" he said gently.

"No sir,--" she answered; and she stood still as before, though the
overspread colour which had held its ground for a good while past, had
given way now and fluttered pain fully. But the doctor's words brought
Mr. Linden, for the first time since his accident--to a perfectly erect
position on the couch--with a total disregard of where his arm went, or
what became of its bandages.

"What are you about!"

"I declare, I don't know!" said Dr. Harrison, standing back. "I
_thought_ I was just disposing of you comfortably for the day--but I am
open to conviction!"

The left hand let go its grasp of the couch--taken so suddenly, and for
which the wounded arm took swift vengeance; and Mr. Linden laid himself
down on the cushions again, the colour leaving his cheeks as fast as it
had come.

"What's the matter, Linden?" said the doctor with rather a kind look of
concern. "You have hurt yourself."

Faith left the room.

"I fear I have disarranged some of your work."

The doctor examined and set to rights.

"I'll see how you do this evening. What ailed you to pitch into me like
that, Linden?"

"I think the 'pitching in' came upon me," he answered pleasantly.

"It seems so, indeed. I hope you won't try this kind of thing again. I
am sure you won't to-day."

And so the doctor went. A quarter of an hour or a little more had gone
by, when the light knock came at Mr. Linden's door that he had
certainly learned to know by this time; and Faith came in, bearing a
cup of cocoa. The troubled look had not entirely left her face, nor the
changeful colour; but she was not thinking of herself.

"I knew you were tired, Mr. Linden--Would you like this--or some
grapes--or wine--better?"

The most prominent idea in Mr. Linden's mind just then, was that he had
already had what he did not like; but that had no place in the look
which answered her, as he raised himsel