re! in this great mansion?" But there
was the name on the door-plate. There was no mistaking that. And so she
rang the bell. "Is the doctor in?" She could hardly get the word
"doctor" out. She had never called him that before, just Laddie. But now
she must say it. "Is the doctor in?" And the word almost stuck in her
throat as she thought to herself, "This poor man opening the door
doesn't know that the 'doctor' really belongs to _me_."

But in a hard voice the servant said that it was past the hours. She
couldn't see the doctor.

"Ah! bat," she said, quite taken by surprise at being held there, "I
_must_ see him."

"But, I tell you, it's quite too late to see him to-day."

But she resolutely put her stout country-boot in the crack of the door,
and her English jaw set in true English fashion, and she said with that
quietness that has the subtle touch of danger in it, "I'll see the
doctor."

And the servant looked puzzled and went to report about this strangely
insistent woman. And the doctor was annoyed by the interruption in the
midst of something that was absorbing him. He said sharply, "It's past
the hours; I can see no one."

"I told her so, sir," replied the man deferentially, "but she insists in
a strange way, sir."

"What's she like?"

"Oh, just a plain country body, sir."

"Well, show her up."

And I am glad to remember that she had a warm embrace of his strong
arms, as he instantly recognized her in the doorway, while the servant
stared. Then he said rather nervously as the servant discreetly
withdrew, "How did yon happen to come? Why didn't you send word? Has
anything happened?" And then as she sat by the fire sipping a cup of
tea, she told the story, in her own simple slow way, and ended up with,
"And now I'm coming to live with you, Laddie." And the old eyes behind
the spectacles beamed, and the dear old wrinkled face glowed.

And he poked the fire, and tried to think You know, our English friends
depend almost wholly on the open grate fire, as we do so largely in the
South. And it's a great thing, is the open grate fire. It's a fire. It
warms your body, at least in front in extreme weather. But it's more
than a fire. It's a stimulus to thought. It refreshes your spirit, and
rests your tired nerves, and it is a wonderful thing to help you unravel
knotty problems. So he poked the fire and thought, while she, quite
unconscious of his embarrassment, went on sipping her tea and talking.

It would