a tiny bowl of ornamental leaves,
such as the doctor admired, by his corner of the table, smiled with
satisfaction to see how attractive everything looked. Then she went
back to her work in the drawing-room, but only to pop up again and go to
the window, open it, and look out at where the doctor was busy with his
penknife and some slips of bass, cutting away the old bindings and
re-tying some choice newly-grafted pears which had begun to swell and
ask for more room to develop.

"It's getting very nearly tea-time, my dear," she cried. "Bruff went
half an hour ago."

"Yes, quarter of an hour before his time," said the doctor. "That's a
curious old silver watch of his, always fast, but he believes in it more
than he does in mine."

"But it is time to come in and wash your hands, love."

"No. Another quarter of an hour," said the doctor. "Vane come back?"

"No, dear, not yet. But he must be here soon."

"I will not keep his lordship waiting," said the doctor, quietly going
on with his tying; and Aunt Hannah toddled back to look at the
drawing-room mantel-clock.

"Dear me, yes," she said; "it is nearly a quarter to six." Punctually
to his time, the doctor's step was heard in the little hall, where he
hung up his hat before going upstairs to change his coat and boots and
wash his hands. Then descending.

"Time that boy was back, isn't it?" he said going behind Aunt Hannah,
who was looking out of the window at a corner which afforded a glimpse
of the road.

"Oh, my dear, how you startled me!" cried Aunt Hannah.

"Can't help it, my dear. I always was an ugly man."

"My dear, for shame! yes, it's quite time he was back. I am growing
quite uneasy."

"Been run over perhaps by the train."

"Oh, my dear!" cried Aunt Hannah in horrified tones. "But how could he
be? The railway is not near where he has gone."

"Of course it isn't. There, come and sit down and don't be such an old
fidget about that boy. You are spoiling him."

"That I am sure I am not, my dear."

"But you are--making a regular Molly of him. He'll be back soon. I
believe if you had your own way you would lead him about by a string."

"Now that is nonsense, my dear," cried Aunt Hannah. "How can I help
being anxious about him when he is late?"

"Make more fuss about him than if he was our own child."

Aunt Hannah made no reply, but sat down working and listening intently
for the expected step, but it did not come, and at last she h