"Sweets to the sweet!" he cried gayly, as he patted the slim hand on the arm of the chair. "Doctor Ned--you dear boy! Oh, how lovely!" exclaimed Mrs. Whitmore, burying her face in the fragrant flowers. "And, doctor, I want to speak to you," she broke off earnestly. "I want you to talk to Meg and Kathie. Perhaps they will listen to you. I want them to go out more. Tell them, please, that I don't need them all the time now." "Dear me, how independent we are going to be!" laughed the doctor. "And so we don't need any more attention now, eh?" "Betty will do." "Betty?" It was hard, sometimes, for the doctor to remember. "The maid," explained Mrs. Whitmore; "though, for that matter, there might as well be no maid--the girls never let her do a thing for me." "No?" returned the doctor easily, sure now of where he stood. "But you don't expect me to interfere in this housekeeping business!" "Somebody must," urged Mrs. Whitmore. "The girls must leave me more. It isn't as if we were poor and couldn't hire nurses and maids. I should die if it were like that, and I were such a burden." "Mother, _dearest_!" broke in Margaret feverishly, with an imploring glance toward her sister and the doctor. "Oh, by the way," interposed the doctor airily, "it has occurred to me that the very object of my visit to-day is right along the lines of what you ask. I want Miss Margaret to go driving with me. I have a call to make out Washington Heights way." "Oh, but--" began Margaret, and paused at a gesture from her mother. "There aren't any 'buts' about it," declared Mrs. Whitmore. "Meg shall go." "Of course she'll go!" echoed Katherine. And with three against her, Margaret's protests were in vain. * * * * * Mrs. Whitmore was nervous that night. She could not sleep. It seemed to her that if she could get up and walk, back and forth, back and forth, she could rest afterward. She had not stepped alone yet, to be sure, since the accident, but, after all, the girls did little more than guide her feet, and she was sure that she could walk alone if she tried. The more she thought of it the more she longed to test her strength. Just a few steps back and forth, back and forth--then sleep. She was sure she could sleep then. Very quietly, that she might not disturb the sleepers in the bedroom beyond, the blind woman sat up in bed and slipped her feet to the floor. Within reach were her knit slippers and the heavy shawl always kept at the head of her bed. With trembling hands she put them on and rose upright.