f dispenser at Hollingford hospital, I had no idea
of recalling myself to her memory. But one day my friend Dr. Baldwin
told me that Lady Ogram had spoken of me, and wished to see me. 'Very
well,' said I, 'than let Lady Ogram invite me to come and see
her.'--'If I were you,' said the doctor, 'I think I shouldn't wait for
that.'--'Perhaps not, doctor,' I replied, 'but you are not me, and I am
myself.' The result of which was that Dr. Baldwin told me I had as
little grammar as civility, and we quarrelled--as we regularly did once
a week."

Dyce listened with amusement.

"And she did invite you?" he asked.

"Yes. A month afterwards, she wrote to the hospital, and, as the letter
was decent, though very dry, I went to Rivenoak. I could not help a
kindly feeling to Lady Ogram, when I saw her; it reminded me of some of
the happiest days of my childhood. All the same, that first quarter of
an hour was very dangerous. As you know, I have a certain pride of my
own, and more than once it made my ears tingle. I dare say you can
guess Lady Ogram's way of talking to me; we'll call it blunt
good-nature. 'What are you going to do?' she asked. 'Mix medicines all
your life?' I told her that I should like to pass my exams, and
practise, instead of mixing medicines. That seemed to surprise her, and
she pooh'd the idea. 'I shan't help you to that,' she said. 'I never
asked you, Lady Ogram!'--It was a toss up whether she would turn me out
of the house or admire my courage: she is capable of one or the other.
Her next question was, where did I live? I told her I lodged with my
aunt, Mrs. Shufflebotham; and her face went black. Mrs. Shufflebotham,
I have been told, was somehow the cause of a quarrel between my father
and Lady Ogram. That was nothing to me. My aunt is a kind and very
honest woman, and I wasn't going to disown her. Of course I had done
the wise, as well as the self-respecting, thing; I soon saw that Lady
Ogram thought all the better of me because I was not exactly a snob."

"This is the first I have heard of your aunt," remarked Dyce.

"Is it? Didn't your father let you know of the shocking revelation I
made to him the other day?"

"He told me nothing at all."

Constance reflected.

"Probably he thought it too painful. Mrs. Shufflebotham keeps a little
shop, and sells cakes and sweetmeats. Does it distress you?"

Distress was not the applicable word, for Lashmar had no deep interest
in Constance or her belongings. But