easy chair, before a glowing grate--which the peculiarities of the
Boston climate sometimes render necessary, even in the early fall--and
appeared to be about as comfortable as a human being could well be.
Perhaps the appearance of comfort was heightened by the general air of
subdued luxury that pervaded the apartment into which Dr. Buxton had
been ushered. The draperies, the arrangement of the little affairs that
answer to the name of bric-a-brac, the adjustment of the
furniture--everything--conveyed the impression of peace and repose; and
the chief element of this perfect harmony was Miss Eustis herself, who
rose to greet the doctor as he entered. She regarded the physician with
eyes that somehow seemed to be wise and kind, and with a smile that was
at once sincere and humorous.

"Why, how is this, Helen?" Dr. Buxton exclaimed, taking off his
spectacles, and staring at the young lady. "I fully expected to find you
in bed. I hope you are not imprudent."

"Why should I be ill, Dr. Buxton? You know what Mr. Tom Appleton says:
'In Boston, those who are sick do injustice to the air they breathe and
to their cooks.' I think that is a patriotic sentiment, and I try to
live up to it. My health is no worse than usual, and usually it is very
good," said Miss Eustis.

"You certainly seem to be well," said Dr. Buxton, regarding the young
lady with a professional frown; "but appearances are sometimes
deceitful. I met Harriet yesterday--"

"Ah, my aunt!" exclaimed Helen, in a tone calculated to imply that this
explained everything.

"I met Harriet yesterday, and she insisted on my coming to see you at
once, certainly not later than to-day."

Miss Eustis shrugged her shoulders, and laughed, but her face showed
that she appreciated this manifestation of solicitude.

"Let me see," she said reflectively; "what was my complaint yesterday?
We must do justice to Aunt Harriet's discrimination. She would never
forgive you if you went away without leaving a prescription. My health
is so good that I think you may leave me a mild one."

Unconsciously the young lady made a charming picture as she sat with her
head drooping a little to one side in a half-serious, half-smiling
effort to recall to mind some of the symptoms that had excited her
aunt's alarm. Dr. Buxton, prescription book in hand, gazed at her
quizzically over his old-fashioned spectacles; seeing which, Helen
laughed heartily. At that moment her aunt entered the room--a
p