It put matters in a different light to Brooke, and she was about to say so when Dr. Russell thrust his head in at the door, and, catching only a few words of Miss Keith’s oration on local political economy, judged that Brooke was being unduly lectured, and would welcome release, which he hastened to offer, by asking her to wrap up well and take a survey of her property with him, saying that Adam had driven down to Gilead with Stead, who had offered to show him the rounds of post-office, store, and blacksmith’s shop. As Dr. Russell opened the front door for Brooke to pass out, Tatters, who for the past hour had been lying by Adam Lawton’s chair in the sitting room, now rose, stretched himself, and prepared to follow, while as he did so, Mrs. Lawton saw that her husband’s eyes followed the dog with an expression very similar to the one that he had worn the last week when either she or Brooke came into plain view. By thus reading his expression, and by it guessing of his needs, she had already established a certain means of communication, which Dr. Russell had explained to her she might hope to develop day by day to the point when continuous memory and coherent speech should return. Once outside the door, Tatters sniffed at Brooke’s cloak, touched the fingers of her ungloved hand lightly with his tongue, and then fell behind, following her at a measured distance, pausing when she paused, and straightway marching along as soon as she did. “It appears to me,” said Dr. Russell, smiling, as he watched the old dog’s soldier-like tread, “that Tatters has ‘transferred himself’ pretty thoroughly, and Miss Keith will therefore have her last objection to going to Boston removed.” A path was shovelled from the front gate to the side lane above the house, into which it turned, passing barn, cow, and chicken houses.