"But not with a night-cap," said the other.

"That depends on circumstances," said Miss Panney, turning over the pages
of a large scrap-book.

"And shoes," continued Mrs. Tolbridge, laughing again.

"Shoes," cried Miss Panney, pushing out one foot, and looking at it.
"Well, truly, that was an oversight; but here is the recipe;" and without
the aid of spectacles, she began to read. "It's exactly as I told you,"
she said presently, "except that some people use sponge cake instead of
macaroons. The orange juice depends on individual taste. Shall I write
that out for you, or will you remember it?"

"Oh, I can remember it," said the other; "but tell me, Miss Panney--"

"Well, then," said the old lady, "make it for him, and see how he likes
it. There is one thing, Mrs. Tolbridge, that you should never forget, and
that is that the doctor is not only your husband, but the mainstay of the
community."

"Oh, I know that, and accept the responsibility; but you must tell me why
you are in bed with all your clothes on. I believe that you did not
expect the doctor so soon, and when you heard my knock, you clapped on
your night-cap and jumped into bed."

"Catherine," quietly remarked the old lady, "there is nothing so
discouraging to a doctor as to find a person who has sent for him out of
bed. If the patient is up and about, she mystifies him; he is apt to make