Miss Mullett for
the words she had spoken in the garden.

The next morning Eve was out under the cedars when the Doctor came
marching down the street, carrying his bag and swinging his cane, his
lips moving a little with the thoughts that came to him. Opposite Eve's
retreat he stood on tiptoes and smiled across the hedge, unseen. She
made a pretty picture there over her book, her brown hair holding
golden-bronze glints where the sun kissed it, and her smooth cheek
warmly pallid in the shade.

"'Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit,
The power of beauty I remember yet,'"

quoted the Doctor. "Good morning, fair Eve of Eden. And how do you find
yourself to-day? For my part I am haunted by a gentle, yet insistent,
regret." The Doctor placed a hand over his heavy gold watch-chain. "It
is here."

"Better there than here," laughed Eve, touching her forehead.

The Doctor pretended affront. "Do you mean to insinuate, young lady,
that I drank too much of the wine last night? Ha! I deny it;
emphatically I deny it. Besides, one couldn't drink too much of such
wine as that! To prove how steady my hand and brain are, I'll come in a
moment and talk with you."

The Doctor entered through the gate and advanced toward Eve, who with
anxious solicitude cautioned him against colliding with the trees or
walking over the flower-beds. Things had changed in the cedars' shade,
and now there were three rustic chairs and an ancient iron table there.
The Doctor sat himself straightly in one of the chairs and glared at
Eve.

"Now what have you to say?" he demanded.

"That you conceal it beautifully," she replied, earnestly.

"Madam, I have nothing to conceal."

"Oh, well, if you persist! Where are you off to this morning?"

"Mother Turner's."

"Is she ill?"

"Probably not. I think myself she's too old to ever be really ill any
more. At ninety-eight the body is too well seasoned to admit disease.
She will just run peacefully down like a clock some day."

"Does she still smoke her pipe, Doctor?"

[Illustration: "NOW WHAT HAVE YOU TO SAY?" HE DEMANDED]

"All day long, I think. I remonstrated with her once ten or fifteen
years ago when she had a touch of pleurisy. 'Mrs. Turner,' I said, 'if
you persist in smoking, you'll injure your health and die young.' She
was then eighty-something. 'Doctor,' said she, with a twinkle in those
bright little eyes of hers, 'I'll live to be a hundred, and that's
more than you'll do.' And, bless m