The doctor almost allowed his car to run into a ditch as he turned to look at his companion. “You do beat the Dutch!” he exclaimed. “I’m not going to let you work for me.” “Sorry you scorn my services. Perhaps you think I’m not equal to the task. I write a fair hand, and can tackle a typewriter on a pinch. If you think I will fall down on that job, some morning you’ll find me scrubbing off your back porch or sweeping down the walk; I’m bound to get even with you some way.” Ellen’s thoughts harked back to the conversation with her cousin. The doctor was in a brown study the rest of the way home. After he had helped Ellen from the car she stood for a moment and laid her hand on his coat sleeve, looking up pleadingly into his face. “Please, Doctor,” she said. The doctor laid his gloved hand upon hers. “Ellen North,” he said, “I’d hug you right here in front of my own windows if Sophy Garrett didn’t live across the street. You’re a witch. I give in. We’ll tackle those books and that pile of letters to-morrow morning.” “I’d love to hug you if it wasn’t for Miss Sophia,” returned Ellen gayly. In two weeks Miss Rindy was back in her own home, which was swept and garnished from garret to basement. The sweeping was not done by Ellen alone, for neighbors to the right and left lent a hand, and the garnishing promised to be overdone when anybody who had a blossoming plant brought it to adorn Miss Rindy’s room. Moreover, all sorts of contribution in the way of food were handed in, so, for a few days at least, there was no danger that the two cousins would suffer from hunger. But as soon as this first excitement passed, everything settled down to a dull routine, and it was a tired Ellen who went to bed each night. From early morn till late at night every moment was filled, and many, many were the steps she took. Miss Rindy, more or less compliant when she was under the care of a regular nurse, became, as is usually the case in convalescence, a difficult patient, with all sorts of whimseys and unnecessary demands. Under the long strain Ellen, too, grew irritable, and more than once rushed from her cousin’s room in tears. It was just after one of these tempests that Dr. Rowe happened to come in. Ellen opened the door for him. He looked at her keenly as he laid aside his hat and overcoat, then he took her by the chin and tipped back her head. “What’s the matter?” he asked sharply. “Nothing much,” answered Ellen, the tears still too near the surface not to suffuse her eyes. “There’s got to be a stop to this all work and no play business,” said the doctor. “Get on your things and I’ll take you for a ride.” “But there is so much to do, and who will stay with Cousin Rindy?” “Never mind about having so much to do, and as for Rindy, it will do her good to have a quiet hour in which to meditate upon her sins. Leave things where she can get at them, and she’ll get along. She is not liable to fall down in a fit.”