death--poisoned," cried Aunt Hannah in horror; but the doctor
burst out into a roar of laughter.

"Oh, it's too bad, my dear," cried Aunt Hannah, tearfully. "You are
laughing at me and just, too, when I am so anxious about Vane."

"I'm not: a young rascal. He has met those sweet youths from the
rectory, and they are off somewhere, or else stopping there."

The doctor rose and rang the bell.

"Are you going to send up to see, my dear?"

"No, I am not," said the doctor, rather tartly. "I am going to--"

Eliza entered the room.

"We'll have tea directly, Eliza," said the doctor; and Aunt Hannah
hurried into the dining-room to measure out so many caddy spoonfuls into
the hot silver pot, and pour in the first portion of boiling water, but
listening for the expected footstep all the time.

That meal did not go off well, for, in spite of the doctor's assumed
indifference, he was also anxious about his nephew. Aunt Hannah could
not touch anything, and the doctor's appetite was very little better;
but he set this down to the chicken being, as he said, dried to nothing,
and the sausages being like horn--exaggerations, both--for, in spite of
Martha's threats, she was too proud of her skill in cooking to send up
anything overdone.

The open jam tart was untouched, and the opening of that pot of last
year's quince marmalade proved to have been unnecessary; for, though
Aunt Hannah paused again and again with her cup half-way to her lips, it
was not Vane's step that she heard; and, as eight o'clock came, she
could hardly keep back her tears.

All at once the doctor rose and went into the hall, followed by Aunt
Hannah, who looked at him wistfully as he put on a light overcoat, and
took hat and stick.

"I'll walk to the rectory," he said, "and bring him back."

Aunt Hannah laid her hand upon his arm, as he reached the door.

"Don't be angry with him, my dear," she whispered.

"Why not? Is that boy to do just as he pleases here? I'll give him a
good sound thrashing, that's what I'll do with him."

Aunt Hannah took away the doctor's walking stick, which he had made
whish through the air and knock down one of Vane's hats.

"There, I'll do it with my fist," cried the doctor. "You cannot
amputate that."

"My dear!" whispered Aunt Hannah, handing back the stick.

"All right, I will not hit him, but I'll give him a most tremendous
tongue thrashing, as they call it here."

"No, no; there is some reason for his bein