, Shot. Doctor, won't you--" And
as they went they all agreed that the dark maiden's invincible modesty
was like some "subtle emana-ation," as Shotwell expressed it, which
charmed all evil out of the grossest eye.

True it was in the convalescent's case, that while Johanna's mere doings
had their curative value, her simple presence had more. Yet her greatest
healing was in her words; in what she told him. She only answered
questions; but these he lightly plied on any and every trivial matter
that promised to lead up--or around--to one subject which seemed to
allure him without cessation. Yet always at her first pause after
entering upon any phase of this topic, he would say, "But that's not
what--hem!--I was speaking of," and starting once more, at any distance
away, would begin to steal yet another approach toward the same enticing
theme.

So the brief time of her appointed service came to its end, neither the
Doctor, nor the convalescent, nor even her young mistress, for one
moment imagining what dear delight, yet withal what saintly martyrdom to
Johanna, this three days' task had been.

In its last hour, when she, to end all well, prepared and brought up the
captive's evening meal, she found him sitting up in bed talking to Henry
Fair.

"Doctor thinks I can go down to my office Monday. Yes, I knew what ailed
me better than he did. I began to recover the moment I quit trying to
convince the Lord that He ought to run this world in my private
interest. Ah! Johanna, so this is the last, is it? I'm pow'ful sorry!
Mr. Fair, you remember Johanna, don't you?"

Mr. Fair remembered, the maid courtesied, and March, a trifle unduly
animated, ran on--"Johanna's the salt of the earth, Mr. Fair. Don't
often see best salt that color, do you?" Then dropping his tone--"O! you
know, if my chief concern were still, as it was at first, to recover my
fortunes, or even to vindicate my abilities, I reckon I could make out
to accept defeat--almost. For, really, I'm just about the only
sufferer--outwardly, at least. Of course, there's an awful shrinkage
here, but all our home people have made net gains--unless it is
Proudfit; I--eh--Johanna, you needn't stay in here; only don't go beyond
call."

The maid closed the door after her, took her accustomed rocking-chair
and needle on the stair-landing, and being quite as human as if she had
been white, listened. Fair's words were very indistinct, but March's
came through the thin door-panel