the room, and Sara, mindful of her reception,
reflected that in such an oddly conducted household, where the advent of
an expected, and obviously much-needed, paying guest could be
completely overlooked, it was hardly probable that smaller details of
house-management would receive their meed of attention.

Instead of depressing her, however, the forlorn aspect of the room
assisted to raise her spirits. It looked as though there might very
well be a niche in such a household that she could fill. Mentally she
proceeded to make a tour of the room, duster in hand, and she had just
reached the point where, in imagination, she was about to place a great
bowl of flowers in the middle desert of the table, when the elderly
Abigail re-appeared and dumped a tea-tray down in front of her.

Sara made a wry face over the tea. It tasted flat, and she could well
imagine the long-boiling kettle from which the water with which it had
been made was poured.

"I'm sure that tea's beastly!"

A masculine voice sounded abruptly from the doorway, and, looking up,
Sara beheld a tall, eager-faced man, wearing a loose shabby coat and
carrying in one hand a professional-looking doctor's bag. The bag,
however, was the only professional-looking thing about him. For the
rest, he might have been taken to be either an impoverished country
squire and sportsman, or a Roman Catholic dignitary, according
to whether you assessed him by his broad, well-knit figure and
weather-beaten complexion, puckered with wrinkles born of jolly
laughter, or by the somewhat austere and controlled set of his mouth and
by the ardent luminous grey eyes, with their touch of the visionary and
fanatic.

Sara set down her cup hastily.

"And I'm sure you're Dr. Selwyn," she said, a flicker of amusement at
his unconventional greeting in her voice.

"Right!" he answered, shaking hands. "How are you, Miss Tennant? It
was plucky of you to decide to risk us after all, and I hope--" with a
slight grimace--"you won't find we are any worse than I depicted. I was
very sorry I had to be out when you came," he went on genially, "but I
expect Molly has looked after you all right? By the way"--glancing round
him in some perplexity--"where _is_ Molly?"

"I understood," replied Sara tranquilly, "that she had gone in to
Oldhampton."

Dr. Selwyn's expression was not unlike that of a puppy caught in the
unlawful possession of his master's slipper.

"What did I warn you?" he exclaimed wi