"Not a thought of the effort," replied Dr. Farleigh. "It isn't
that."

"What is it?"

"A thought of appearances--of what people will say."

"Now, doctor! You don't think me so weak in that direction?"

"Just so weak," was the free-spoken answer. "You fashionable people
are all afraid of each other. You haven't a spark of individuality
or true independence. No, not a spark. You are quite strong enough
to ride out in your own elegant carriage but with the doctor!--O,
dear, no! If you were certain of not meeting Mrs. McFlimsey, perhaps
the experiment might be adventured. But she is always out on fine
days."

"Doctor, for shame! How can you say that?"

And a ghost of color crept into the face of Mrs. Carleton, while her
eyes grew brighter--almost flashed.

The maid came in with shawl and bonnet. Dr. Farleigh, as we have
intimated, understood his patient, and said just two or three words
more, in a tone half contemptuous.

"Afraid of Mrs. McFlimsey!"

"Not I; nor of forty Mrs. McFlimseys!"