ued
hastily, as though he feared he had hurt me. 'What a snug little berth
you have, Miss Garston, and everything so ship-shape too! I suppose that
is your piano; but I am afraid you will have little time to practise.'
And then, as I handed him his tea, he threw himself down in the
easy-chair and seemed prepared to enjoy himself.

Looking at Mr. Hamilton this evening, I could have believed he had two
sides to his character: he presented such a complete contrast to the Mr.
Hamilton in Uncle Max's study that I was quite puzzled by it. He had
certainly a clever face, and his smile was quick and bright; it was only
in rest that his mouth looked so stern and hard. I found myself wondering
once or twice if he had known any great trouble that had embittered him.

'Well, I must tell you about poor Phoebe Locke,' he began suddenly. 'I
want you to find out what you can do for her. The Lockes are respectable
people: Phoebe and her sister were dressmakers. They live a little lower
down,--at Woodbine Cottage.

'Some years ago spinal disease came on, and now Phoebe is bedridden. She
suffers a good deal at times, but her worst trouble is that her nerves
are disordered, most likely from the dulness and monotony of her life.
She suffers cruelly from low spirits; and no wonder, lying all day in
that dull little back room. Her sister cannot sit with her, as Phoebe
cannot bear the noise of the sewing-machine, and the sight of the outer
world seems to irritate her. The neighbours would come in to cheer her
up, but she does not seem able to bear their loud voices. It is
wonderful,' he continued musingly, 'how education and refinement train
the voice: strange to say, though my voice is not particularly low, and
certainly not sweet, it never seems to jar upon her.'

'Very likely not,' I returned quickly; 'no doubt she depends upon you for
all her comforts: to most invalids the doctor's visit is the one bright
spot in the day.'

'It seems strange that we do not project our own shadows sometimes, and
make our patient shiver,' he said, with a touch of gruffness. 'It is
little that I can do for Phoebe, except order her a blister or ice when
she needs it. One cannot touch the real nervous suffering: there is where
I look to you for help; a little cheerful talk now and then may lighten
her burden. Anyhow, it would be a help for poor Miss Locke, who has a sad
time of it trying to earn food for them both. There is a little niece
who lives with th