ow what
was he to be saddled with?--the burden without the consolation--the
responsibility without the companionship. All this Dr Rider represented
to himself very pathetically as he wended his homeward way. Yet it is
astonishing, notwithstanding, with what alacrity he hastened upon that
path, and how much the curiosity, the excitement, the dramatic stir and
commotion made in his monotonous life by this entirely new unexpected
incident, occupied his mind. With expectations highly roused, he drew
up once more before his own house. It was surprising to him to see
how exactly it looked like itself. The blinds half-drawn down in the
genteelest calm as they always were--no faces peeping at the windows--no
marks of an arrival on the pavement, or in the composed countenance of
Mary, who stood holding the door open for him. He went in with a little
thrill of curiosity; the house was very quiet--dead-quiet in comparison
with the commotion of his thoughts; so was the sitting-room where he had
left Nettie resolutely planted in the easy-chair; there was nobody there
now; the boxes were out of the hall, not a sound was to be heard in the
house. He turned rather blankly upon Mary, who was going away quite
composedly, as if there was nothing which she wanted to tell or he to
hear.

"Where is my brother and the ladies?" said the amazed doctor.

"They all went off to the 'otel, sir, as soon as Mr Rider came
down-stairs," said Mary, complacently. "I assured Miss as it was the
best thing she could do, sir, for that I was 'most sure you'd never have
the children here,--as to be sure there wasn't no room neither," said
the doctor's factotum. "As soon as Mr Frederick came down, she called a
cab, did Miss, and took 'em both away."

"Oh! so they're gone, are they?" said the doctor.

"Hours and hours ago," answered Mary; "dinner'll be up in two minutes.
But I wouldn't say much for the potatoes, sir. When a gentleman's
irreg'lar, it's hard laws on the poor servants--nothink will keep, going
on for two hours, and not take no harm; but all's quiet and comfortable
in your room."

And with this assurance, which she evidently thought a very grateful
one, Mary went off to get the doctor's dinner. He walked to the end of
the room, and then back again, with solemnity--then threw himself into
that easy-chair. "Blessed riddance!" said the doctor; but somehow he
looked glum, wonderfully glum. There was no accounting for those blank
looks of his; he w