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"Ever since that handkerchief has been removed sir," said she, earnestly, "Jaggard has got well. I do believe, sir, that the scent on it kept the poor dear stupid.",

"But how do you know it isn't David's?" persisted Judith, as she gathered up her letters. "We never asked David when his birthday came, did we?",

"All? What else do you expect me to say?" demanded Etwald, coldly.,

In the taxicab she unfolded the plans for the week that Miss Jinny had promised them, dwelling on each detail with all the ardor of her enthusiastic nature.

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He was tall, he was thin, with a dark, lean face, and fiery watchful dark eyes. For three years he had been wasting his talents in the neighboring town of Deanminster; when, if intellect were in question, he should have been shouldering his way above the crowd of mediocrities in London. The man was dispassionate, brilliant and persevering; he had in him the makings not only of a great physician, but of a great man; and he was wasting his gifts in a dull provincial town. He was unpopular in Deanminster, owing to the absence of what is termed "a good bedside manner," and the invalids of the cathedral city and Hurstleigh, for he had patients in both places, resented his brusque ways and avoidance of their scandal-mongering tea parties. Also he was a mystery; than which there can be no greater sin in provincial eyes. No one knew who Etwald was, or whence he came, or why he wasted his talents in the desert of Deanminster; and such secret past which he declined to yield up to the most persistent questioner, accentuated the distrust caused by his sombre looks and curt speeches. Provincial society is intolerant of originality.,

Patricia held Judith close, with her own heart beating tumultuously to the rhythm of the storm. Hard rattling drops castinetted at the glass, beating an accompaniment to the roar of the racing clouds. For a moment all was black, then, as the whirling cloud masses swept apart, the pelting drops lulled and a gray twilight full of ominous murmurs filled the place. Before Patricia could frame the swift thought that the storm was passing, darkness swept over them again, and the fierce scream of the relentless wind tore at the corners of the barn. The rain beat, deluged, engulfed the out-of-doors; it drummed gayly with diminishing ferocity; then it roared sullenly, flooding the rain spouts to bursting; it raged again, with the scream of the wind growing higher, and snapping branches flung themselves past the gray squares of the windows, flying leaves pasted wet green blurs on the streaming glass. Judith shuddered.,

"Dido! Well, I admit that such a barbaric treasure would tempt her, the more particularly as she knows about such wizard instruments. Ask her if she took it.",

Patricia felt sorry for Elinor and Bruce that they should be marooned among the elder and more serious members of the party, but, as David pointed out to her in an answering whisper, they seemed uncommonly satisfied where they were and not at all in need of sympathy.