e
little smile curved her lips again as she thought of the maple by the
schoolhouse steps, and the lettuce sandwiches and--and everything. She
closed her eyes and tried to recall his face as he had looked up at her.
Instinctively she knew it for a good face, strong, humorous, kindly, but
strong above all. And it was strength that Esther needed. When she went
to bed that night her burden seemed a little lighter.

I believe he can help me, she thought, and it isn't as if he were quite
a stranger. After all, we had lunch together once!

CHAPTER VI

Undoubtedly Esther slept better that night for the thought of the new
doctor. It cannot be said that the doctor slept better because of her.
In fact he lay awake thinking of her. He did not want to think of her;
he wanted to go to sleep. Twice only had he seen her. Once upon the
occasion of the red pump and once when casually passing her on the main
street. There was no reason why her white-rose face with its strange
blue eyes and its smile-curved lips should float about in the darkness
of Mrs. Sykes' best room. Yet there it was. It was the eyes, perhaps.
The doctor admitted that they were peculiar eyes, startlingly blue. Dark
blue in the shade of the lashes, flashing out light blue fire when the
lashes lifted. But Mrs. Sykes' boarder did not want to think about eyes.
He wanted to go to sleep. He did not want to think about hair either.
Although Miss Coombe had very nice hair--cloudy hair, with little ways
of growing about the temple and at the curve of the neck which a blind
man could not help noticing. In the peaceful shadows of the room it
seemed a still softer shadow framing the vivid girlish face.

Still, on the whole, sleep would have been better company and when at
last he did drop off he did not relish being wakened by the voice of Ann
at his door.

"Doc-ter, doc-ter! Are you awake? Can I come in?"

"I am not awake. Go away."

Ann's giggle came clearly through the keyhole.

"You've got a visitor," she whispered piercingly through the same
medium. "A man. A well man, not a sick one. He came on the train. He
came on the milk train--"

"You may come in, Ann." The doctor slipped on his dressing gown with a
resigned sigh. "What man and why milk?"

"I don't know. Aunt Sykes kept him on the veranda till she was sure he
wasn't an agent. Now he's in the parlour. Aunt hopes you'll hurry, for
you never can tell. He may be different from what he looks."

"What