Meantime, for Maddy, Dr. Holbrook had prescribed perfect quiet, bidding them darken again the window from which the shade had been removed, and ordering all save the grandmother to leave the room and let the patient sleep, if possible. Even Jessie was not permitted to stay, though Maddy clung to her as to a dear friend. In a few whispered words Jessie had told her name, saying she came from Aikenside, and that her Brother Guy was there, too, outdoors, in the carriage. “He heard how sick you were at Devonshire, this morning, and drove right home for me to come to see you. I told him of you that day in the office, and that’s why he brought me, I guess. You’ll like Guy. I know all the girls do—he’s so good.” Sick and weary as she was, and unable as yet to comprehend the entire meaning of all she heard, Maddy was conscious of a thrill of pride in knowing that Guy Remington, from Aikenside, was interested in her, and had brought his sister to see her. Winding her feeble arms around Jessie’s neck, she kissed the soft, warm cheek, and said, “You’ll come again, I hope.” “Yes, every day, if mamma will let me. I don’t mind it a bit, if you are poor.” “Tut, tut, little tattler!” and Dr. Holbrook, who, unseen by the children, had all the while been standing near, took Jessie by the arm. “What makes you think them poor?” In the closely-shaded room Maddy could see nothing distinctly, but she heard Jessie’s reply: “Because the plastering comes down so low, and Maddy’s pillows are so teenty, not much bigger than my dolly’s. But I love her; don’t you doctor?” Through the darkness the doctor caught the sudden flash of Maddy’s eyes, and something impelled him to lay his cool, broad hand on her forehead, as he replied, “I love all my patients;” then, taking Jessie’s arm, he led her out to where Guy was waiting for her. CHAPTER VI. CONVALESCENCE. Had it not been for the presence of Dr. Holbrook, who, accepting Guy’s invitation to tea, rode back with him to Aikenside, Mrs. Agnes would have gone off into a passion when told that Jessie had been “exposed to fever and mercy knows what.” “There’s no telling what one will catch among the very poor,” she said to Dr. Holbrook, as she clasped and unclasped the heavy gold bracelets flashing on her white, round arm. “I’ll be answerable for any disease Jessie caught at Mr. Markham’s,” the doctor replied. “At Mr. Who’s? What did you call him?” Agnes asked, the bright color on her cheek fading as the doctor replied: “Markham—an old man who lives in Honedale. You never knew him, of course.” Involuntarily Agnes glanced at Guy, in whose eye there was, as she fancied, a peculiar expression. Could it be he knew the secret she guarded so carefully? Impossible, she said to herself; but still the white fingers trembled as she handled the china and silver, and for once she was glad when the doctor took his leave, and she was alone with Jessie. “What was that girl’s name?” she asked, “the one you went to see?”