was Phoebe who spoke.

"I'll stay outside while the doctor goes in. I can sit down here on the
step. Your father needn't know I am here any more than usual. I told
the doctor not to talk, coming up the walk."

The doctor smiled at her. Phoebe looked like a rose in her Sunday
white, and the elder woman felt a sudden joy in her, untouched by envy
of her youth and bloom. Phoebe only seemed a part of the beautiful new
laws to which the world was freshly tuned, Dorcas coveted nothing; she
envied nobody. She herself possessed all, in usurping her one rich
kingdom.

"All right," she said. "The doctor can step in now, and see father.
I'll hurry back, as soon as Sunday-school is over." She walked away,
glancing happily at the flowers on either side of the garden-path. She
wanted to touch all their leaves, because, last night, he had praised
them.

Returning, when her hour was over, she walked very fast; her heart was
waking into hunger, and she feared he might be gone. But he was there,
sitting on the steps beside Phoebe, and when the gate swung open, they
did not hear. Phoebe's eyes were dropped, and she was poking her
parasol into the moss-encrusted path; the doctor was looking into her
face, and speaking quite eagerly. He heard Dorcas first, and sprang up.
His eyes were so bright and forceful in the momentary gleam of meeting
hers, that she looked aside, and tried to rule her quickening breath.

"Miss Dorcas," said he, "I'm telling this young lady she mustn't forget
to eat her dinner at school. I find she quite ignores it, if she has