"It's what I said first, miss. 'You've been and dropped it in the gutter,' I said. But he only laughed and said it was give to him this morning, and that he was to bring it to the servants' entrance and ask for Prissy." "But why didn't he deliver it this morning?" asked Rose, her bewilderment growing. "I don't know, miss. He's been playing in the streets all day, I expect. Anyway he said I was to give it you when nobody was looking. It's Miss Ruth's writing, miss." Rose made no remark upon this, but asked: "Did he say who gave it to him?" "A young lady he said, miss." "That will do, Prissy." "Can I do anything for you, miss? "Nothing, thank you." Prissy gone, Rose looked at the envelope, and saw written in one corner, "Read this when you are alone." Troubled and perplexed, she stood with the letter in her hand, but when the door was opened again and the doctor was announced she put it hastily into her pocket and went forward to meet him. Dr. Roberts had attended Rachel for some years past, and took the deepest interest in her. "Sleeping," he said, stepping to her side. He turned to Rose, and questioning her, learned why he had been sent for. "She falls asleep," he said, with his fingers on Rachel's pulse. "Ah, you are awake," as Rachel sat upright. "Now let us see what is the matter. You are not in pain? No. That's good." "It is only because Rose was so anxious," said Rachel. "There is really nothing the matter with me, doctor." "But you feel weak and drowsy at times. We will soon set that right." Dr. Roberts was one of those cheerful physicians whose bright ways always brightened his patients. "Make the best of a case," was a favorite saying of his, "not the worst." He remained with Rachel a quarter of an hour, advised her to get to bed, gave her instructions as to food, ordered her a tonic, and took his leave. Rose went with him into the passage. "There is no danger, doctor?" "Not the slightest, my dear," he answered in a fatherly manner. "But I would advise perfect rest. Don't tell her anything exciting. She must not be worried. Get a humorous story, and read it to her. Make her laugh. Let everything be bright and cheerful about her. But I need not say that. It always is, eh? If you have any troubles keep them to yourself. But what troubles should a young girl like you have?" He met Aaron at the street door. "Ah, Mr. Cohen, I have been to see your wife--in a friendly way." "She is not ill?" asked Aaron in an anxious tone, stepping back.