Wholly unsuspicious of the wild storm beating in his heart, Maddy untied her white sunbonnet, and, taking it in her lap, smoothed back her soft hair, saying, with a long breath: “Oh! I’m so hot,” and then, as just thinking of his question, replied: “I shouldn’t love him—I couldn’t. Grandma is five years younger than grandpa, mother was five years younger than father, Mrs. Green is five years younger than Mr. Green, and, oh! ever so many. You are warm, too; ain’t you?” and she turned her innocent eyes full upon the doctor, who was wiping from his lips the great drops of water, induced not so much by the heat as by the apparent hopelessness of the love he now knew was growing in his heart for Maddy Clyde. Recurring again to Agnes, Maddy said: “I wonder why she married that old man? It is worse than if you were to marry Jessie.” “Money and position were the attractions, I imagine,” the doctor said. “Agnes was poor, and esteemed it a great honor to be made Mrs. Remington.” “Poor, was she?” Maddy rejoined. “Then maybe Mr. Guy will some day marry a poor girl. Do you think he will?” Again Lucy Atherstone trembled on the doctor’s lips, but he did not speak of her—it was preposterous that Maddy should have any thoughts of Guy Remington, who was quite as old as himself, besides being engaged, and with this comforting assurance the doctor turned his horse in the direction of the cottage, for Maddy was growing tired and needed to be at home. “Perhaps you’ll some time change your mind about people so much older, and if you do you’ll remember our talk this morning,” he said, as he drove up at last before the gate. Oh, yes! Maddy would never forget that morning or the nice ride they’d had. She had enjoyed it so much, and she thanked him many times for his kindness, as she stood waiting for him to drive away, feeling no tremor whatever when at parting he took and held her hand, smoothing it gently, and telling her it was growing fat and plump again. He was a very nice doctor, much better than she had imagined, she thought, as she went slowly to the house and entered the neat kitchen, where her grandmother sat shelling peas for dinner, and her grandfather in his leathern chair was whispering over his weekly paper. “Did you meet a grand lady in a carriage?” grandma asked, as Maddy sat down beside her. “Yes; and Dr. Holbrook said it was Mrs. Remington, from Aikenside, Mr. Guy’s stepmother, and that she was more than twenty years younger than her husband—isn’t it dreadful? I thought so; but the doctor didn’t seem to,” and in a perfectly artless manner Maddy repeated much of the conversation which had passed between the doctor and herself, appealing to her grandma to know if she had not taken the right side of the argument.