l right to-morrow. She always is."

"Yes. But they are getting more frequent, and you know--she is so
different. She can't be well. Haven't you noticed it?"

"No," vaguely.

"Well, Jane has. So it can't just be imagination. She ought to consult a
doctor."

"She won't."

"But it's absurd! What shall we do if she goes on like this? If there
were only some one who would talk to her! She won't listen to me because
she is older and married and--all that. All the same she doesn't seem
older when she acts like this--like a child!"

"Well, you know, Esther, there isn't any doctor here that your mother
just fancies."

The girl stooped lower over the blue bowl, perhaps to hide the little
smile which crinkled up the corner of her mouth. The faint colour on her
cheek may have been a reflection from the flowers.

"Yes, but haven't you heard? There is a new doctor. He seems quite
different--I mean they say he is awfully nice. Mrs. Sykes' Ann was
telling me all about him. He is going to board with Mrs. Sykes. The
child just worships him already. Perhaps mother might see him."

"I shouldn't worry," said Aunt Amy placidly. "This pepper-grass will be
very nice for tea. Did you tell Jane she might have two apples, Esther?"

"No. I told her she might have one. But I don't suppose two will hurt
her." Esther was used to Aunt Amy's inconsequences which made impossible
the discussion of any subjects save the most trivial. But she sighed a
little as she realised anew that there was no help here.

"Jane is feeling badly about Timothy," she explained. "Don't you think
we might have tea in here, Auntie? It is so cool."

Aunt Amy, who had been anxiously rubbing an imaginary spot on the table,
looked up with a startled air. "Oh, Esther!" she said, in the voice of a
frightened child. Then with a child's obvious effort to control rising
tears, "Of course, if you say so, Esther. But--but do you feel like
risking the round table? Couldn't we have it on the little table in
the corner?"

The girl settled the last of her flowers and pushed back her hair with a
worried gesture. A pang of mingled irritation and anxiety lent an edge
of sharpness to her soft voice.

"Auntie dear! I thought you had quite forgotten that fancy. You know it
is only a fancy. Round tables are just like other tables. And you
promised me--"

"Yes, I know, but--"

"Well, then, be sensible, dear. We shall have tea in here." Then seeing
the real distress on the timid