eading it, staring fixedly at the paper, and when at length he
looked up his face wore a guarded expression with which many of his
patients were familiar. He took a pocket-book from an inner pocket and
laid the crumpled scrap within it. Then, without more ado, he put on his
hat and departed.

Olga was by that time spinning merrily along the road to Brethaven,
having parted with Nick at the railway-station. Violet was seated beside
her, and the old servant Mitchel sat sourly behind them. He had a rooted
objection to the back-seat, and held the opinion that a woman at the
wheel was out of place.

Olga, however, was not prepared to yield on this point at least. She had
brought him against her will, and she meant to forget him if possible.
But it was not long before Violet had extracted from her an account of
the discussion that had resulted in Mitchel's unwilling presence. She
was not very anxious to supply the information, but Violet was
insistent and soon possessed herself of the full details of the argument
which she seemed to find highly amusing.

"Oh, my dear, he's in love with me of course!" she said "I discovered
that the first night I was with you. Hence his solicitude."

"I'm not so sure of that," said Olga.

"What! You haven't noticed it? My dear child, where are your eyes?
Haven't you seen the way he watches me?"

Yes, Olga had seen it; but somehow she did not think it meant that. She
said so rather hesitatingly.

"What else could it mean?" laughed Violet. "But you needn't be afraid,
dear. I'm not going to have him. He's much too anatomical for me, too
business-like and professional altogether. I'd sooner die than have him
attend me."

"Would you?" said Olga. "But why? He's very clever."

"That's just it. He's too clever to have any imagination. He would be
quite unscrupulous, quite merciless, and utterly without sympathy. Can't
you picture him making you endure any amount of torture just to enable
him to say he had cured you? Oh yes, he's diabolically clever, but he is
cruel too. He would take the shortest cut, whatever it meant. He
wouldn't care what agony he inflicted so long as he gained his end and
made you live."

"I don't think he is quite so callous as that," Olga said, but even as
she said it she wondered.

"You will if he ever has to doctor you," rejoined Violet. "I wonder what
Mrs. Briggs thought of him. We'll find out to-day."

Mrs. Briggs was the daughter of the old woman who had died