THE DOCTOR'S MATCH-MAKING.

"GOOD-MORNING, Mrs. Barnet," cried the Doctor, as we drew near a neat
farm-house during one of our morning drives.

A tall, healthful young woman, in the bloom of matronly beauty, was
feeding chickens at the door. She uttered an exclamation of delight and
hurried towards us. Perceiving a stranger in the wagon she paused, with
a look of embarrassment.

"My friend, who is spending a few weeks with me," explained the Doctor.

She greeted me civilly and pressed the Doctor's hand warmly.

"Oh, it is so long since you have called on us that we have been talking
of going up to the village to see you, as soon as Robert can get away
from his cornfield. You don't know how little Lucy has grown. You must
stop and see her."

"She's coming to see me herself," replied the Doctor, beckoning to a
sweet blue-eyed child in the door-way.

The delighted mother caught up her darling and held her before the
Doctor.

"Does n't she look like Robert?" she inquired. "His very eyes and
forehead! Bless me! here he is now."

A stout, hale young farmer, in a coarse checked frock and broad straw
hat, came up from the adjoining field.