was apparently in a most commonplace frame of mind. She wished he
would say something about their talk of the night before, but he did
not. She seemed very old to herself, older than she ever would seem
again, perhaps, but the doctor had apparently relapsed into their old
relations as guardian and child. Perhaps he thought she would forget
her decision, and did not know how much it meant to her. He was quite
provoking. He hurried the horse himself as they went up a somewhat
steep ascent, and as Nan touched the not very fleet steed with the
whip on the next level bit of road, she was reminded that it was a
very hot morning and that they had a great way to drive. When she
asked what was the matter with the patient they were on their way to
see, she was answered abruptly that he suffered from a complication of
disorders, which was the more aggravating because Nan had heard this
answer laughed at as being much used by old Dr. Jackson, who was
usually unwilling or unable to commit himself to a definite opinion.
Nan fancied herself at that minute already a member of the profession,
and did not like to be joked with in such a fashion, but she tried to
be amused, which generosity was appreciated by her companion better
than she knew.

Dr. Leslie was not much of a singer, but he presently lifted what
little voice he had, and began to favor Nan with a not very successful
rendering of "Bonny Doon." Every minute seemed more critical to the
girl beside him, and she thought of several good ways to enter upon a
discussion of her great subject, but with unusual restraint and
reserve let the moments and the miles go by until the doctor had
quickly stepped down from the carriage and disappeared within his
patient's door. Nan's old custom of following him had been neglected
for some time, since she had found that the appearance of a tall young
woman had quite a different effect upon a household from that of a