unhappily. Dr. Coombe she had worshipped, yet his death had not affected
her as much as might have been feared. Perhaps it was one of her
compensations that death to her was not quite what it is to the more
normal consciousness. It was noticeable that she always spoke of the
doctor as if he were in the next room. Her devotion to him had been
caused by his success in partially relieving her of the most distressing
burden of her disordered brain--the delusion of persecution. Aunt Amy
knew that somewhere there existed a mysterious power known vaguely as
"They" who sought unceasingly to injure her. Of course it was only once
in a while that "They" got a chance, for Aunt Amy was very clever in
providing no opportunities. More than once had she outwitted "Them."
Still, one must be always upon one's guard! From this harrowing delusion
the doctor had done much to deliver her, indeed she had become more
normal in every way under his care. It was only now, a year after his
death, that Esther imagined sometimes that there was a slipping back--

The ill effects of sitting at a round table, for instance? It was a long
time since this particular fancy had been spoken of and Esther had
considered it gone altogether. Yet here it was, cropping out again and
just at a time when other problems threatened. Things seemed determined
to be difficult to-day.

The fact was that Esther was suffering from the need of a confidant.
Really worried as she felt about her step-mother's health, the burden of
taking any determined action against the wishes of the patient herself
was a serious one for a young girl. Yet in whom could she confide? Girl
friends she had in plenty but not one whose judgment she could trust
before her own. Had the minister been an older man or a man of different
calibre she might have gone to him, but the idea of appealing to Mr.
Macnair was distasteful. Neither among her father's friends was there