ken it, it being his way to do a thing thoroughly if he did it
at all.

"Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might," he added
piously. "If a thing's worth doing at all, it's worth doing well, I
always think."

That was his formula for the time being, but Beth judged him by his
demeanour, which was gay, and not by his professions, and did not pity
him. She was in excellent spirits herself, for her writing was going
well; and it varied the monotony pleasantly for her to have Bertha to
talk to, and walk, play, or sew with, after her work. Bertha's
demonstrations of affection, too, were grateful to Beth, who had had
so little love either bestowed upon her or required of her.

Bertha had been in the house three months, when one day her mother
called, and found Beth alone, Dan and Bertha having gone for a drive
together. Mrs. Petterick had just returned from abroad, where the
whole family had been living most of the time that Bertha had been
with the Maclures.

"Really," Mrs. Petterick said, "I don't know how to thank you for your
kindness to my girl. She's quite a different person I can see by her
letters, thanks to the good doctor. Before he took her in hand she was
quite hysterical, and had to lie down two or three times a day,
because she said she had no strength for anything. But really three
months is an abuse of hospitality; and I think she should be coming
home now."

"Oh no, do let her stay a little longer if you can spare her," Beth
pleaded. "It is so nice to have her here."

"Well, it is good of you to say so," said Mrs. Petterick, "but it must
be a great expense to you. We weren't well off ourselves at one time.
Mr. Petterick's a self-made man, and I know that every additional
mouth makes a difference. But, however, you being proud, I won't
offend you by offering money in exchange for kindness, which can't be
repaid, but shan't be forgotten."

When Mrs. Petterick had gone, Beth sat awhile staring into the fire.
She was somewhat stunned, for Dan had assured her that Bertha was a
paying patient, and that, it seemed, had been a gratuitous lie. She
was roused at last by Minna, the parlour-maid. "Please, ma'am, a lady
wishes to see you," Minna said.

"Show her in," Beth answered listlessly. But the next moment she
stiffened with astonishment, for the lady who entered was Mrs. Kilroy
of Ilverthorpe.

"I am afraid I have taken you by surprise," Mrs. Kilroy began rather
nervously.

"Will you