traces of Feudalism, that this middle-aged M.R.C.S. actually
surrendered his private notes of cases into these most unprofessional
hands. Gwen pointed to the unread sequel, triumphantly. "There!" she
exclaimed. "The very thing we want! You may be sure that neither Granny
Marrable nor her daughter ever told a chick of seven years old of
_that_ defect in Mr. Muggeridge's character." For what Gwen had _not_
read aloud was:--"_Mug. broke 7th: Comm:_"

The doctor was perhaps feeling that masculine profundity had not shone,
and that he ought to do something to redeem its credit. For his comment,
rather judicial in tone, was:--"Yes--but Widow Thrale was not able to
confirm this ... blemish on Mr. Muggeridge's reputation."

"Now, my dear Dr. Nash, why _should_ she be able to confirm a thing that
happened when her mother was ten years old?"

The doctor surrendered at discretion--perhaps resolved not to repeat the
attempt to reinstate the male intellect. "Of course not!" said he.
"Perfectly correct. Very good! I'll try, then, to make use of that. I
understand your object to be that old Granny Marrable shall come to know
that she and Mrs. Prichard are sisters, as gradually as possible. I may
not succeed, but I'll do my best. Ticklish job, rather! Now I suppose I
ought to look after Sir Cropton Fuller."

Five minutes after saying which the doctor's gig was doing its best to
arrive in time to prevent that valetudinarian swallowing five grains of
calomel, or something of the sort, on his own responsibility.

* * * * *

Gwen had felt a misgiving that her expedition to Dr. Nash had really
been a cowardly undertaking, because she had flinched from her task at
the critical moment. Well--suppose she had! It might turn out a
fortunate piece of poltroonery, if Dr. Nash contrived to break the ice
for her with the other old sister. But the cowardice was beginning
again, now that every stride of the mare was taking her nearer to her
formidable task. Desperation was taking the place of mere Resolve,
thrusting her aside as too weak for service in the field, useless
outside the ramparts. Oh, but if only some happy accident would pave the
way for speech, would enable her to say to herself:--"I have said the
first word! I cannot go back now, if I would!"

On the way to Strides Cottage again! Nearer and nearer now, that moment
that must come, and put an end to all this puling hesitation. She could
not help the