do all he could for her, but his thoughts were
now principally occupied with plans for the continuance of good living in
his own home.

"I suppose it would not be practicable," he said presently, "to invite
them to stay with us during the heated term."

Mrs. Tolbridge dropped her work into her lap.

"That is not to be thought of for a moment," she said. "We have no
room for them, unless we give up having any more friends this summer;
and besides that, you would see La Fleur, with the other servants at
her heels, devoting herself to the gratification of every want and
notion of Mrs. Drane, and thinking no more of me than if I were a
chair in a corner."

"We shall not have that," said the doctor, rising, and placing his hand
on his wife's head. "You may be sure we shall not have that. And now I
will go and get a bit of my handwriting, and see if you can help me
decipher it."

He left the room, but in an instant returned.

"A happy thought has just struck me!" he exclaimed. "I wonder if those
young Haverley people would take Mrs. Drane into their house for the rest
of the summer? It would be an excellent thing for them, for their
household needs the presence of an elderly person, and I am sure that no
one could be quieter, or more pleasant, and less troublesome, than Mrs.
Drane would be. What do you think of that idea?"

Mrs. Tolbridge looked up approvingly.

"It is not a bad one," she said; "but what would the daughter do? She
could not come into town every day to do your work. It is too long a walk
for her, and she could not afford a conveyance."

"No," said the doctor, "of course she could not go back and forwards
every day, but it would not be necessary. She could take the work out
there and do it as well as here, and she could come in now and then, when
a chance offered, and ask me about the hard words, for which she could
leave blanks. Or, if I happen to be in the neighborhood, I could stop in
there and see how she was getting on. I would much rather arrange the
business in that way, than have her pop into my office at any moment to
ask me about my illegible words."

"I should think the work could be done just as well out of the house as
in it," said the doctor's wife, who would be willing to have again the
use of the little room that she had cheerfully given up to the copyist of
her husband's book, which she, quite as earnestly as Miss Panney, desired
to be given to the world.

"The first thing to do,"