"O Miss Blake! this man--make him go away; make some one send him away.
He's annoying me--and my foot!"

The governess grew if possible a shade paler. "What man?" she demanded
sharply, "Where?"

Nan could not speak. She indicated with a mute gesture. Miss Blake
looked behind her, but if there had actually been such a man as the
girl described he must certainly have taken to his heels. They were
standing alone in the midst of the hurrying crowd.

"O Nan!" cried the governess, not stopping to argue the question,
"where have you been? Delia and I have been frantic with worry. She
is out now hunting for you. She went one way and I another."

Nan could not reply. The torture in her ankle grew fiercer with every
movement. She shook her head silently and limped on.

"You are hurt! You are in pain!" cried Miss Blake, now for the first
time really realizing her condition.

Nan nodded dumbly.

"Take my arm; no, lean on my shoulder! There, that's better! Bear
down as hard as you can and use me as your crutch! I'm strong. I
won't give out."

And a right good support she proved. Happily they were but a stone's
throw from home, and it was not long before Nan was comfortably settled
on the library lounge, luxuriously surrounded by all sorts of downy
cushions and having her injured ankle bound in soothing cloths by the
tenderest of hands. Delia, full of sympathy and the desire to help,
was bustling about nervously, tripping over bandages and upsetting
bottles of liniment, but meaning so well all the while that one could
not discourage her.

"It is only a strain. You have turned your ankle badly and the muscles
have been wrenched, but I don't think it is an actual sprain," said
Miss Blake, consolingly. "However, if the pain is still bad to-morrow,
we'll have a doctor in to look at it. Do you still have Dr. Milbank,
Delia?"

Nan sat bolt upright with surprise.

"How funny!" she cried. "However in the world did you know Dr. Milbank
was our doctor? Why, we've had him for years and years. Ever since I
was born and before, too. But how could you know?"

Delia hurried out of the room muttering something about the dinner, and
Miss Blake bent her head over the bandage she was rolling.

"He lives so near," she replied haltingly.

"I've seen his sign often as I passed and--and--perhaps that is why I
thought he might be your physician. He's so convenient--within call.
It is hard to tell what makes one