all forlorn before!" she said, pleadingly. "We are all quite well,
and I can't bear going without you."

"I had much rather all the chickens were safe away, Carey," he said,
sitting down by her. "There's a tendency to epidemic fever in two or
three streets, which I don't like in this hot weather, and I had
rather have my mind easy about the young ones."

"And what do you think of my mind, leaving you in the midst of it?"

"Your mind, being that of a mother bird and a doctor's wife, ought to
have no objection."

"How soon does Dr. Drew come home?"

"In a fortnight, I believe. He wanted rest terribly, poor old
fellow. Don't grudge him every day."

"A fortnight!" (as if it was a century). "You can't come for a
fortnight. Well, perhaps it will take a week to fix on a place."

"Hardly, for see here, I found a letter from Acton when I came in.
They have found an unsophisticated elysium at Kyve Clements, and are
in raptures which they want us to share-—rocks and waves and all."

"And rooms?"

"Yes, very good rooms, enough for us all," was the answer, flinging
into her lap a letter from his friend, a somewhat noted artist in
water-colours, whom, after long patience, Carey's school friend, Miss