"God knows how long I'd have been upon my back, grieving for strength," said Anthony. "But your good offices saved me a deal of it." "Your thanks should go to Mr. Sparhawk more than to me," said the girl. "Without his shrewd wit and ready realization, I'm afraid little would have been done." They talked for a space; their voices were level, their manners still; but there was a something about each of them which glowed like an aura; the edges of these sought to meet and lap but the dregs of a bitter wind still blew between them, and it was not yet to be. Then Dr. King appeared and took Anthony away into his study. "There is a space yet to bridge before his health is fully recovered," said Mrs. King to mademoiselle. "He is not yet strong." "His eyes are tired," said mademoiselle. "His spirit looks through them and tells of the sufferings of the past months." "The doctor is concerned about him," said Mrs. King, as the girl was going. "He recommends a simple, natural life, in a place where he can rebuild his body while his mind rests. He is of an outdoor breed, and you cannot keep such housed up when their vitality is lowered without grave risk." Mademoiselle carried this away with her, and that night, as Christopher Dent and Tom Horn sat in the room back of the shop, the little apothecary grinding some healing agent into a proper fineness, and Tom sitting silent, his eyes fixed upon the wall before him, the girl came in. At once Christopher brought forward a chair, dusted it carefully, and offered it to her. She sat down and looked at them both. "You are always so comfortable here, and so contented," she said. "You have your work and your books and your thoughts. I can envy one who has such quiet interests." The little apothecary looked gratified and rubbed his bald crown. "But," he said, "your own affairs will quiet down before long. Oh, yes, you may be sure of that. You have gone through a deal; but a calm comes finally, and then we are less stirred by those affairs of which others have control. We grow content within ourselves; and that, Mademoiselle, is as it should be." He turned once more to the mortar and began grinding at the substance in it, nodding in the wise way he had; and she sat smiling at a fancy that came into her mind, that he was really an ancient nature sprite who had gathered great stores of peace in the woodlands and fields, along with the barks and roots and flowers of his trade. And then the thought of woodlands and fields caused her mind to go to Anthony and to what Mrs. King had said earlier in the day. So she repeated the saying to Christopher, and he listened with concern. "The doctor spoke of that, here, only a few days ago, when I urged certain curative things as being desirable in our young friend's case. 'There is no remedy like air and quiet and work with one's hands,' he said. And who knows but he spoke truth?"