her feet.

But Emma shook her head obstinately. She was the middle-aged daughter of
a New Jersey farmer, and had lived with the family ever since they had
resided in Alton. She had a harsh face, although rather good-looking, "I
have been used to dogs all my life," said she, "and I never knowed a dog
to act like that unless there was somebody about the house."

"Well, I have done all I could," said James. "I called out the office
door, and nobody answered. It could not have been a patient."

"There was somebody about the house," repeated Emma. "Well, I must go
and mix up the bread."

When she was gone, Clemency looked palely at James. "Oh," she said, "do
you think it could have been that man?"

"No," replied James firmly; "it must have been your gesture. That is a
very intelligent dog, and dogs have imagination. He imagined something
wrong."

"I hope it was that," said Clemency faintly. "It seems to me I should
die if I thought that terrible man were hanging about the house. It is
bad enough never to be able to go out of doors."

"Doctor Gordon says I may take you out driving some evening," said James
consolingly.

Clemency looked at him with a brightening face. "Did he?"