doctors' wives' visits
yesterday, three of them, Philip--each intent on her husband's
business, I suppose. Two were at home, and I looked so aggravatingly
healthy. I could not think what to talk about, having never done that
sort of thing before. The first mercifully had a dog, which I admired
for a quarter of an hour, the second showed me her pigeons. I knew all
about _them_."

Philip looked at the latest cards which Eleanor handed him.

"Mrs. Mounteagle," he read, "why she is the lady next door. I don't
want you to know her, Eleanor. She has not the best of names in
Richmond; this place teems with scandal! I am acquainted with
half-a-dozen people who positively cram it down your throat whenever
you are unfortunate enough to meet them."

"And what have they against Mrs. Mounteagle?"

"Well, my dear, nothing alarmingly serious, only she is rather a fast
widow, and not a nice companion for you. She has a queer set at her
house, and is almost too 'up-to-date' even for Richmond society."

"But since she has called, Philip, and we live next door, what am I to
do?"

"It is awkward, certainly. I should leave cards, and not ask if she is
in. That is about the best hint if you don't desire her acquaintance."

"She will think me so horrid," sighs Eleanor, "but I will do as you
wish."

The following afternoon Eleanor, card-case in hand, rings at Mrs.
Mounteagle's, prepared to carry out her husband's suggestion.

A soft voice singing in the garden arrests her attention. It is the
sweetest sound Eleanor has ever heard. Light footsteps crunch the
gravel, and a slim, dark woman approaches with slumbrous eyes, which
look at the visitor dreamily. A smile, like a fitful name, flickers
over Mrs. Mounteagle's face, suddenly bursting into a bright expression
of ill-concealed amusement at Eleanor's nervous demeanour.

"Mrs. Roche," she exclaims, holding out a welcoming hand. "You see,
being such near neighbours, I know you already by sight. I am sure, if
you are only just married, you must find first calls most boring and
tedious. But I am very glad you selected this afternoon to return
mine, for I am simply pining to talk to someone. The dead leaves and
general decay out here give one the blues. Come in, and help me to
appreciate my first fire."

Eleanor has utterly forgotten her husband's wishes, till she finds
herself in a softly cushioned rocking chair, with her feet on Mrs.
Mounteagle's brightly-polished