five miles from the Milbury Station, and we thought of letting her go
with a day-ticket to see about her. She could go in the morning, after
I am up; but I don't know what is to be done, for she could not get back
before I dress for dinner."

Margaret felt perfectly aghast at the cool tone, especially after what
had passed.

"It would be quite impossible," said the doctor. "Even going by the
eight o'clock train, and returning by the last, she would only have two
hours to spare--short enough measure for a sick mother."

"Papa means to give her whatever she wants for any nurse she may get."

"Is there no one with her mother now?"

"A son's wife, who, they think, is not kind. Poor Bellairs was so
grateful for being allowed to go home. I wonder if I could dress for
once without her?"

"Do you know old Crabbe?" said the doctor.

"The dear old man at Abbotstoke? Oh, yes, of course."

"There was a very sad case in his family. The mother was dying of
a lingering illness, when the son met with a bad accident. The only
daughter was a lady's-maid, and could not be spared, though the brother
was half crazy to see her, and there was no one to tend them but a
wretch of a woman, paid by the parish. The poor fellow kept calling for
his sister in his delirium, and, at last, I could not help writing to
the mistress."

"Did she let her come?" said Meta, her cheek glowing.

"As a great favour, she let her set out by the mail train, after
dressing her for a ball, with orders to return in time for her toilette
for an evening party the next day."

"Oh, I remember," said Margaret, "her coming here at five in the
morning, and your taking her home."

"And when we got to Abbotstoke the brother was dead. That parish nurse
had not attended to my directions, and, I do believe, was the cause of
it. The mother had had a seizure, and was in the most precarious state."

"Surely she stayed!"

"It was as much as her place was worth," said the doctor; "and her wages
were the chief maintenance of the family. So she had to go back to dress
her mistress, while the old woman lay there, wailing after Betsy. She
did give warning then, but, before the month was out, the mother was
dead."

Meta did not speak, and Dr. May presently rose, saying he should try to
meet Mr. Rivers in the town, and went out. Meta sat thoughtful, and at
last, sighing, said, "I wonder whether Bellairs's mother is so very ill?
I have a great mind to let Susan try to do