round her little finger, without their knowing anything
about it themselves. But now don't let us talk any more about Effie and
me. I want to hear your news. How is Mrs. Harvey? How has she borne the
death of her poor little baby?"

"It lived just two hours after its birth," said the doctor, with a sad
look on his face. "The shock the poor mother underwent evidently had
some effect upon it. Well, she is getting on splendidly--she seemed to
know from the first that her poor little baby would not live, but as
Freda is doing so well, not a murmuring word has passed her lips. She is
a sweet young woman, and I am thankful to say I don't believe she took a
scrap of infection from poor little Freda."

"And the little one; is she continuing to get better?"

"She is doing magnificently--thanks to that fine creature, Dorothy
Fraser. I never came across such a woman. If you only saw, Mary, the
state of hopeless confusion, of pandemonium--for it really amounted to
that--of that wretched house the morning Miss Fraser arrived; if you
could only have seen the condition of the sickroom, and then have gone
into it two hours later, why, it was like stepping from the infernal
regions into paradise. The order of the sickroom seemed to affect the
whole house. The servants ceased to be in a state of panic, the meals
were properly cooked, the Squire came back to his normal condition, and
Mrs. Harvey became quite cheerful. In short, except for the loss of her
poor little one, she seems to have had no ill effects from the terrible
strain she has undergone. Little Freda is making rapid marches toward
recovery, and I do not at present see the slightest trace of the disease
spreading through the house."

"Have you seen Freda often?" asked Mrs. Staunton.

"No; that good soul simply forbade it--I was like wax in her hands. Of
course her reason was a very legitimate one, or I should not have
submitted to it, for it would not have been safe for me to have attended
to Mrs. Harvey coming straight from the child's room. All is now going
on well at The Grange, and I can come home and rest."

"I wish you did not look so dreadfully worn out," said Mrs. Staunton.

"Oh, the home air will soon pull me together. Heigh-ho! here you come,
my good angel, and the tea is more than welcome."

The doctor sank back in his deep armchair.

Effie placed the fragrant tea on the table, and, pouring out a cup,
brought it to her father. She had made crisp toast as we