of the preacher.

"Why shouldn't my mother marry again if she likes, Dr.
Vereker--especially Mr. Fenwick?"

"Don't you think it possible, Miss Sally, that the parson didn't mean
anything about your mother--didn't connect her in his mind with----"

"With the real widow in the parable? Oh yes, he did, though! As if
mother was a real widow!"

Now, the doctor had heard from his own widowed mother the heads of
the gossip about the supposed divorce. He had pooh-poohed this as mere
tattle--asked for evidence, and so on. But, having heard it, it was
not to be wondered at that he put a false interpretation on Sally's
last words. They seemed to acknowledge the divorce story. He felt
very unsafe, and could only repeat them half interrogatively, "As
if Mrs. Nightingale was a real widow?" But with the effect that
Sally immediately saw clean through him, and knew what was passing
in his mind.

"Oh no, Dr. Vereker! I wasn't thinking of _that_." She faced round to
disclaim it, turning her eyes full on the embarrassed doctor. Then she
suddenly remembered it was the very thing she had come out to talk
about, and felt ashamed. The slightest possible flush, that framed up
her smile and her eyes, made her at this moment a bad companion for
a man who was under an obligation not to fall in love with her--for
that was how the doctor thought of himself. Sally continued: "But I
wish I had been, because it would have done instead."

The young man was really, at the moment, conscious of very little
beyond the girl's fascination, and his reply, "Instead of what?" was
a little mechanical.

"I mean instead of explaining what I wanted you to talk about special.
But when I spoke, you know, just now about a real widow, I meant a real
widow that--that _wids_--you know what I mean. Don't laugh!"

"All right, Miss Sally. I'm serious." The doctor composes a
professional face. "I know perfectly what you mean." He waits for the
next symptom.

"Now, mother never did wid, and never will wid, I hope. She hasn't got
it in her bones." And then Miss Sally stopped short, and a little extra
flush got time to assert itself. But a moment after she rushed the
position without a single casualty. "I want to know what people say,
when I'm not there, about who my father was, and why he and mother
parted. And I'm sure you can tell me, and will. It's no use asking
Tishy Wilson any more about it." Observe the transparency of this young
lady. She wasn't going to co