ith
a sigh.

'And we shall do so most willingly,' he returned, with a sort of tacit
rebuke to my selfishness, 'if we know the change is benefiting her.' And
then, with a change of tone, 'What a beautiful handwriting hers is,
Ursula!--so firm and clear, so characteristic of the writer. Does she
often write you such long, interesting letters? You are much to be
envied, my dear. Well, well, the day's work is waiting for me.' And with
that he went off, without saying another word.

My next visitor was Mr. Hamilton. He came to tell me of an accident case.
A young labourer had fallen off a scaffolding, and a compound fracture of
the right arm had been the result. He was also badly shaken and bruised,
and was altogether in a miserable plight.

I promised, of course, to go to him at once; but he told me that there
was no immediate hurry; he had attended to the arm and left him very
comfortable, and he would do well for the next hour or two; and, as Mr.
Hamilton seemed inclined to linger for a little chat, I could not refuse
to oblige him.

'It is just as well that this piece of work has come to me,' I said
presently, 'for I was feeling terribly idle. Since Elspeth's death I have
not had a single case, and have employed my leisure in writing long
letters to my relations and taking country rambles with Tinker.'

'That is right,' he returned heartily. 'I am sure we worked you far too
hard at one time.'

'It did not hurt me, and I should not care to be idle for long.--Yes, I
have heard from Gladys,' for his eyes fell on the open letter that lay
beside us. 'I am rather disappointed that I shall not see her before I go
away.'

'Are you going away, then?' he asked, very quickly, and I thought the
news did not seem to please him.

'Not for three weeks. I hope my patient will be getting on by that time,
and will be able to spare me: at any rate, I can give his mother a lesson
or two. You know my cousin is to be married, and I have promised to help
Aunt Philippa.'

'How long do you think you will be away?' he demanded, with a touch of
his old abruptness.

'For a fortnight. I could not arrange for less. Sara is making such a
point of it.'

'A whole fortnight! I am afraid you are terribly idle, after all, Miss
Garston. You are growing tired of this humdrum place. You are yearning
for "the leeks and cucumbers of Egypt,"' with a grim smile.

'You are wrong,' I returned, with more earnestness than the occasion
warranted. 'I f