ll, Olive," she remarked,
with commendable prudence, "one swallow does not make a summer."

"No, Aunt Madge, of course not; but, as Marcus says, one patient brings
others. Galvaston House is a big place, and when the neighbours see
him going in and out, it will be a sort of testimonial; besides, I
shall quote Deb's favourite proverb, 'Every mickle makes a muckle.'
Now I really must go, for I want to cut out Dot's pelisse."

"And the dinner, Olive; are you sure it will go round to-day?"

Then Olivia laughed in a shamefaced way.

"Yes, indeed; I have been dreadfully extravagant, and we are going to
have steaks and chips because it is Marcus's favourite dish, and Martha
does it so well. There is a whole pound of steak and just a little
over. I saw it cut myself, and it was such good weight." And
hesitating a little, "There are currant dumplings too."

"Come--this is feasting indeed!"

But Aunt Madge smiled a little sadly when she found herself alone.

"Does Olive half realise how happy she is!" she said to herself. "She
is a rich woman in spite of all her poverty and cares. When one has
youth and love and health and a good conscience, every day is a feast
and a delight. One day Marcus will drive in his carriage and pair. He
is a clever fellow and there is real grit in him, and people will find
it out, they always do. And Olive will wear silk dresses, and get
stout with prosperity and good living; but I doubt if she will be quite
as happy as she is to-day--cutting out Dot's pelisse, and enjoying her
day-dreams."

And very probably Mrs. Broderick was right. Marcus was more
communicative that evening when he returned from his second visit to
Galvaston House. Mr. Gaythorne was not exactly an ideal patient; he
had a will and a temper of his own, and already his opinion clashed
with his doctor's.

Marcus had laid great stress on perfect rest. He wished his patient to
remain in bed for the next two or three days, but Mr. Gaythorne
perversely refused to do anything of the kind; he would put on his
dressing-gown and lie on the couch. He hated bed in the daytime--it
made him nervous, and spoilt his night's sleep.

"I shall have to give in to him," went on Marcus, a little irritably.
"If I were in good practice I should just throw up the case. 'My good
sir,' I should say, 'if you will not follow my directions it will be
useless for me to prescribe for you. My professional reputation is at
stake, and I canno