Mrs. Ladue used to sit beside the table with its stained green cover, in that very homelike back parlor, in the long evenings, with Uncle John in his great chair before the bubbling fire. Miss Patty ran--or, no, she did not run, literally. That would have been most undignified besides being unnecessary; but it was probably unnecessary for Miss Patty to go out so often and stay so long about her household duties. The duties of the household rather oppressed Miss Patty and sat heavily upon her. Household duties? Better be about them, Miss Patty thought. So she flitted nervously in and out twenty times during an evening. She was out more than she was in and her chair on the other side of the fire from Uncle John's was usually empty. She went to glance into the kitchen, to see what Bridget or Mary _could_ be about, it was so quiet there. She hadn't heard a sound for the longest while. "Don't you think I'd better see, father?" And her father would smile quietly and tell her to do as she liked. Or she would wonder whether the maids had locked the cellar door; or there was that window in the pantry; or she had to see Charlie safely into bed, although one would think that Charlie was very nearly old enough to see himself safely into bed. There were things without end; anything that _might_ not be just as Patty thought it should be. Uncle John and Mrs. Ladue sat quietly through it all, Mrs. Ladue with her sewing or her embroidery or her crochet work or her book. She was not much of an invalid, after all; not enough of an invalid to give any trouble. She had to be careful, that was all. She must not get too tired and she must have plenty of sleep. Those two things Doctor Galen had enjoined upon her at parting, with much impressiveness. And he thought that he might as well drop a line to Meriwether Beatty asking him to keep an eye on her and to let him know how she was getting along. "So you see, my lady, you are not out of my clutches yet," the doctor finished merrily. To which Mrs. Ladue had replied, almost tearfully, that she had no wish to get out of his clutches and that she never could repay him and she didn't want to and she shouldn't try. She _liked_ to feel that she owed her life to him-- "Tut, tut!" said the doctor, smiling. "Don't forget Fox."