weet as the ring-dove's call
to her mate.

I am afraid it may be suggested that I am drawing Number Five's portrait
too nearly after some model who is unconsciously sitting for it; but have
n't I told you that you must not look for flesh and blood personalities
behind or beneath my Teacups? I am not going to make these so lifelike
that you will be saying, This is Mr. or Miss, or Mrs. So-and-So. My
readers must remember that there are very many pretty, sweet, amiable
girls and women sitting at their pianos, and finding chords to the music
of their heart-strings. If I have pictured Number Five as one of her
lambs might do it, I have succeeded in what I wanted to accomplish. Why
don't I describe her person? If I do, some gossip or other will be sure
to say, "Oh, he means her, of course," and find a name to match the
pronoun.

It is strange to see how we are all coming to depend upon the friendly
aid of Number Five in our various perplexities. The Counsellor asked her
opinion in one of those cases where a divorce was too probable, but a
reconciliation was possible. It takes a woman to sound a woman's heart,
and she found there was still love enough under the ruffled waters to
warrant the hope of peace and tranquillity. The young Doctor went to her
for counsel in the case of a hysteric girl possessed with the idea that
she was a born poetess, and covering whole pages of foolscap with
senseless outbursts, which she wrote in paroxysms of wild excitement, and
read with a rapture of self-admiration which there was nothing in her
verses to justify or account for. How sweetly Number Five dealt with
that poor deluded sister in her talk with the Doctor! "Yes," she said to
him, "nothing can be fuller of vanity, self-worship, and self-deception.
But we must be very gentle with her. I knew a young girl tormented with
aspirations, and possessed by a belief that she was meant for a higher
place than that which fate had assigned her, who needed wholesome advice,
just as this poor young thing does. She did not ask for it, and it was
not offered. Alas, alas! 'no man cared for her soul,'--no man nor woman
either. She was in her early teens, and the thought of her earthly
future, as it stretched out before her, was more than she could bear, and
she sought the presence of her Maker to ask the meaning of her abortive
existence.--We will talk it over. I will help you take care of this
child."

The Doctor was thankful to have her assistance in