"Seventeen and three months, come the fourteenth
of next July. But she's not a woman to me, and she
never will be. She's my wee bairn that I took from
her mother's dyin' arms and nursed at my own breast,
and she'll be that wee bairn to me as long as I live.
Ye'll be up to see her, won't ye, doctor?"

"Yes, to-night. How's Miss Jane?" As he made
the inquiry his eyes kindled and a slight color suffused
his cheeks.

"She'll be better for seein' ye," the nurse answered
with a knowing look. Then in a louder and
more positive tone, "Oh, ye needn't stare so with
them big brown eyes o' yourn. Ye can't fool old
Martha, none o' you young people kin. Ye think
I go round with my eyelids sewed up. Miss Jane
knows what she wants--she's proud, and so are you;
I never knew a Cobden nor a Cavendish that warn't.
I haven't a word to say--it'll be a good match when
it comes off. Where's that Meg? Good-by, doctor.
I won't keep ye a minute longer from MISS Gossaway.
I'm sorry it ain't her tongue, but if it's only
her throat she may get over it. Go 'long, Meg!"

Dr. Cavendish laughed one of his quiet laughs--
a laugh that wrinkled the lines about his eyes, with
only a low gurgle in his throat for accompaniment,
picked up his whip, lifted his hat in mock courtesy
to the old nurse, and calling to Rex, who, bored by