ly seasoned with pepper.

"I see. But I'm a little, just a little, afraid you may have trouble in
getting the stuffing to stay in while the chicken is roasting. You
see--" He paused.

"I suppose I've cut it open too much."

"Rather--unless you're a very good amateur surgeon. And even then--"

"I'm no surgeon--I'm no cook--I never shall be! I--don't want to be!"
Charlotte burst out, suddenly, beginning to cut up the chicken with
vigorous slashes, mostly in the wrong places.

"Yes, you do. Hold on a minute! That joint isn't there: it's farther
down. There. See? Once get the anatomy of this bird in your mind, and it
won't bother you a bit to cut it up. Pardon me, Miss Charlotte, but I
know you do want to be a good cook--because you want to be an
accomplished woman."

Charlotte put down her knife, washed her hands with furious haste, got
out a pitcher, poured it full of hot water, and handed it silently to
Doctor Churchill without looking at him. He glanced from it to her with
amusement as he received it "Thank you," he said, politely, and walked
away.

When he came down-stairs fifteen minutes later, he found the slim figure
in the Turkey-red apron waiting for him at the bottom. As the girl
looked up at him he noted, as he had done many times already in the
short two weeks he had known her, the peculiar, gipsy-like beauty of her
face. It was a beauty of which she herself, he had occasion to believe,
was absolutely unconscious, and in this he was right.

Charlotte disliked her dark skin, despised her black curls, and
considered her vivid colouring a most undesirable inheritance. She
admired intensely Celia's blonde loveliness, and lost no chance of
privately comparing herself with her sister, to Celia's infinite
advantage.

"Doctor Churchill," she said, as he approached her, hat in hand, "I was
very rude to you just now. I am--sorry."

She held out her hand. Doctor Churchill took it. Charlotte's thick black
lashes swept her cheek, and she did not see the look, half-laughing,
half-sympathetic, which rested on her downcast face.

"It's all right," said Doctor Churchill's low, clear voice. "Don't think
I fail to understand what it means for the cares of a household like
this to descend upon a girl's shoulders. But I want you to know that
I--that they are all immensely pleased with the pluck you are showing. I
have seen your sister's lunch tray several times since I have been
coming here; it was perfect."

"I bur