t that was the last
inconvenience he inflicted.

To add to Andrew's relief, Jean came to him a few days after Frank's
departure and announced her intention of repairing to London and
adopting the profession of nursing. In retailing this incident to his
friends, her brother laid particular emphasis on the generosity he had
displayed and the scanty thanks she had tendered him. The financial
assistance he offered her was ample--perfectly ample for all that a girl
wanted; while in the matter of good advice he had been positively
extravagant.

"You'll think well over this, Jean," said he.

"I have thought," she answered briefly.

"It's an arduous profession you're embarking on, and a responsible
profession, and an honorable profession. It requires--"

"Oh, I know what it requires," she interrupted. "It will be much better
if you simply tell your friends what you intended to tell me. They may
be impressed: I am not."

And, like the obliging brother he was, Andrew obeyed her wishes
literally. He had his reward, for such of his friends as were able to
wait till he had finished his narrative told him candidly that they
thought he had left nothing unsaid, and that certainly his sister ought
to consider herself fortunate. In fact, he only relinquished his grasp
of their buttonholes when they had acquiesced in these conclusions.

The spectacle was now presented to the world of poor Andrew Walkingshaw,
bereft of his father and deserted by his sister, living in that great
house in company only with his sense of duty and his aunt. People were
very sorry for him indeed; they said he should marry; in fact, such as
enjoyed the privilege of his acquaintance even began to select suitable
young women for his approval. Andrew inspected these candidates gravely,
but at the same time let it be clearly understood that he was in no
hurry; he might decide to marry, or he might not--anyhow, if he did, the
lady would be conferring no favor. It was left to your common sense to
decide by whom, in that case, the favor would be conferred.

All this sympathy was very consoling, but in a world partially
compounded of people less sensible than Andrew Walkingshaw, a few
disappointments are inevitable. He found his in the annoying attitude of
two or three valuable but wrong-headed clients, who would persist in
making frequent inquiries as to the probable duration of the senior
partner's indisposition. There was an unpleasant sense of comparison
im