ipt."

The doctor laughed. "If a child should walk to school," he said, "at the
same rate of speed that he takes his first toddling step on the nursery
floor, it might take him about thirteen years to get there. That is, if
his school were at the average distance. You will get on fast enough when
you become acquainted with my writing."

She was on the point of saying that surely he had had time to get
acquainted with it, and yet he could not read it; but she considered that
she did not yet know the doctor well enough for that.

The doctor rose and took up his hat; then he suddenly turned toward Miss
Drane and said, "La Fleur, our cook, came to speak to me this morning
about your mother. She says she thinks that you are not well lodged; that
the street is in the hottest part of the town, and that Mrs. Drane's
health will suffer if you stay there. Does your mother object to your
present quarters?"

Cicely, who had been half way to the door, now came back and stood by
the table.

"Mother never objects to anything," she said. "She thinks our rooms are
very neat and comfortable, and that Mrs. Brinkly is a kind landlady,
but she has complained a great deal of the heat. You know our house was
very airy."

"I am sorry," said the doctor, "that Mrs. Brinkly's house is not likely
to prove pleasant. It is in a closely built portion of the town, but it
seemed the only place where we could find suitable accommodations for
your mother and you."

"Oh, it is a nice place," exclaimed Cicely, "and I am sure we shall like
it, except in hot weather, such as we are having now. I have no doubt we
shall get used to it after a little while."

"La Fleur does not think so," said the doctor. "She is very much
dissatisfied with the Brinkly establishment. I think I saw signs of
mental disturbance in our luncheon to-day."

Cicely laughed. She was a girl who was pleasant to look at when she
laughed, for her features accommodated themselves so naturally to
mirthful expression.

"It is almost funny," she said, "to see how fond La Fleur is of mother.
She lived with us less than a year, and yet one might suppose she had
always been a servant of the family. I think one reason for her feeling
is that mother never does anything. You know she has never been used to
do anything, and of late years she has not been well enough. La Fleur
likes all that; she thinks it is a mark of high degree. She told me once
that my mother was a lady who was born to