cut in with a question, which showed plainly to Dolph how little
he cared to discuss Dolph's fears concerning Olive.

"Does anybody hear anything from the wife?"

"I don't, thank heaven!" Dolph assured him piously. "I did hear my
sister-in-law explaining to a visitor that Mrs. Brenton was very busy
in Boston. How she knew it; or whether she made it up for
conversational purposes, I don't know. Neither do I know how long it
takes to get one's self into commission as a healer. Doesn't Brenton
ever say anything about her?"

"Not to me. Of course, it's not a subject where I like to be asking
questions; and I suppose, for the same reason, he hates to open it up,
himself."

"Naturally." Dolph's tone was dry. "Reed, who killed that baby?"

Opdyke raised his brows.

"I'm not the medical examiner, Dennison; I'm not obliged to say what I
think about it," he returned.

Dolph sat up and faced his friend.

"I am, then. Opdyke, if it hadn't been a case of his own rector's
family, Doctor Keltridge would have carried the matter to the courts."

"Did Olive tell you?"

"Olive doesn't tell things of that sort," Dolph said conclusively.
"She's her father's own child." Then, of a sudden, he returned to his
original charge. "Opdyke, why don't you think a little more about Olive
Keltridge?" he demanded.

"Because I think quite enough of her, as it is," Reed answered.

"Of her, but not about her," Dolph said moodily. "Of course, if I could
get her for my own wife, I wouldn't be giving you this advice. I've
proved I can't, though--"

Reed interrupted.

"Girls have been known to change their minds," he said.

In spite of his sentimental regrets, Dolph laughed outright.

"If you had been present at our interview, you wouldn't have predicted
any change in this case. Olive was--well, just as she always is, the
soul of downright niceness; but she managed to leave me quite convinced
once and for all that I might as well have wooed the woman in the moon.
And, by Jove," Dolph's voice dropped to a confidential murmur; "now
it's all over, I begin to think that she was right. It was a nasty
half-hour for both of us; but we've come out of it, ripping good
friends and without a sentimental regret to our names."

"Speaks well for Olive."

"Doesn't it? It's left me caring for her a long way more than ever,
only not in the accepted-suitor sort of fashion. That's the reason I
hate to see her drifting about, all at loose ends."

"Dennis