with a quick, fierce movement. "Go away!" she cried. "You have your
answer. Not for fifty thousand fortunes should you have the child! Go,
and never come here again!"

* * * * *

It was two or three days after this that Dr. Brown was driving rapidly
home toward the village. He had had a tiresome day, and he meant to
have a cup of Vesta Dale's good tea and a song from Melody to smooth
down his ruffled plumage, and to put him into good-humor again. His
patients had been very trying, especially the last one he had
visited,--an old lady who sent for him from ten miles' distance, and
then told him she had taken seventy-five bottles of Vegetine without
benefit, and wanted to know what she should do next. "I really do not
know, Madam," the doctor replied, "unless you should pound up the
seventy-five bottles with their labels, and take those." Whereupon he
got into his buggy and drove off without another word.

But the Dale girls and Melody--bless them all for a set of
angels!--would soon put him to rights again, thought the doctor, and
he would send old Mrs. Prabbles some pills in the morning. There was
nothing whatever the matter with the old harridan. Here was the turn;
now in a moment he would see Vesta sitting in the doorway at her
knitting, or looking out of Rejoice's window; and she would call the
child whom his heart loved, and then for a happy, peaceful evening,
and all vexations forgotten!

But what was this? Instead of the trim, staid figure he looked to see,
who was this frantic woman who came running toward him from the little
house, with white hair flying on the wind, with wild looks? Her dress