"I think that I shall take Miss Doane as a partner. Her herbs or her
prescriptions seem to have a better effect than my medicines. Shall I
come to-morrow?"

"Yes; this may not last. Come to-morrow if you are near, though I am
sure I won't need you."

As the doctor's hand was on the door he turned:

"If I were you, Mrs. Beaumont, I'd send for those camomile leaves."

But with all her little acts of neighborliness, and her "baking day"
and her attempts to find duties to fill the hours, time began to hang
heavily upon the hands of active Drusilla. If she had been of a
higher station in life she would have said that she was bored or was
suffering from that general complaint of the rich--"enuyee."

Here Providence stepped in. One morning when she was dressing she
heard a peculiar little wailing cry. She listened. The cry was
repeated. She listened again, but could not locate the sound. Then,
thinking she might be mistaken, she continued with her dressing; but
again that piercing wail was borne to her ears. She opened her window
and then she heard it distinctly--a baby's cry. She listened in
amazement. There was no baby on the place except the gardener's, and
his cottage was too far from the big house to have his children's
wails heard in that place given over to aristocratic quiet. Drusilla
tried to see around the comer of the house, but she could not; so she
rang for Jeanne.