"Good-evening, Doctor; what a nest of roses you have here for a bachelor," was his jovial cry, as he entered the quaint little house, in which Sellick had now established himself. "I declare, when you told me I should always find a room here, I did not realize what a temptation you were offering me. And in sight----" He paused, changing color as he drew back from the window to which he had stepped,----"of the hills," he somewhat awkwardly added. Edgar, who had watched the movements of his friend from under half lowered lids, smiled dryly. "_Of the hills_," he repeated. Then with a short laugh, added, "I knew that you liked that especial view." Frank's eye, which was still on a certain distant chimney, lighted up wonderfully as he turned genially towards his friend. "I did not know you were such a good fellow," he laughed. "I hope you have found yourself made welcome here." "Oh, yes, welcome enough." "Any patients yet?" "All of Dudgeon's, I fear. I have been doing little else but warning one man after another: 'Now, no words against any former practitioner. If you want help from me, tell me your symptoms, but don't talk about any other doctor's mistakes, for I have not time to hear it.'" "Poor old Dudgeon!" cried Frank. Then, shortly: "I'm a poor one to hide my impatience. Have you seen either of _them_ yet?" "Either--of--them?" "The girls, the two sweet whimsical girls. You know whom I mean, Edgar." "You only spoke of one when you were here before, Frank." "And I only think of one. But I saw the other on my way to the depot, and that made me speak of the two. Have you seen them?" "No," answered the other, with unnecessary dryness; "I think you told me they did not go out." "But you have feet, man, and you can go to them, and I trusted that you would, if only to prepare the way for me; for I mean to visit them, as you have every reason to believe, and I should have liked an introducer." "Frank," asked the other, quietly, but with a certain marked earnestness, "has it gone as deep as that? Are you really serious in your intention of making the acquaintance of Miss Cavanagh?" "Serious? Have you for a minute thought me otherwise?" "You are not serious in most things." "In business I am, and in----" "Love?" the other smiled. "Yes, if you can call it love, yet." "We will not call it anything," said the other. "You want to see her, that is all. I wonder at your decision, but can say nothing against it. Happily, you have seen her defect." "It is not a defect to me." "Not if it is in her nature as well?" "Her nature?" "A woman who for any reason cuts herself off from her species, as she is said to do, cannot be without her faults. Such idiosyncrasies do not grow out of the charity we are bid to have for our fellow-creatures."