They set to work together, to put out of sight whatever was least seemly of the scattered contents of the professional apartment; but, with all their pains, the garden looked forlorn and disagreeable enough when Hester came down, shawled, to make breakfast in the open air of the parlour, and her husband thought it time to go and see how Maria had passed the night, and to bring Margaret home. Hester received from her husband and sister a favourable report of Maria. She had slept, and Margaret had slept beside her. Maria carried her philosophy into all the circumstances of her lot, and she had been long used to pain and interruption of her plans. These things, and the hurry of an accident in the street, might dismay one inexperienced in suffering, but not her. When not kept awake by actual pain, she slept; and when assured that her case was perfectly simple, and that there was every probability of her being as well as usual in a few weeks, all her anxieties were for the Hopes. No report of them could have satisfied her so well as Mr Hope's early visit,--as his serene countenance and cheerful voice. She saw that he was not sad at heart; and warmly as she honoured his temper, she could hardly understand this. No wonder for she did not know what his sufferings had previously been from other causes, nor how vivid was his delight at the spirit in which Hester received their present misfortunes. Margaret saw at once that all was well at home, and made no inquiries about her sister. "Here is a letter for you, with a magnificent seal," said Hester, as they entered. "And here is tea as hot, I believe, as if we were still blessed with glass windows." The letter had just been left by Sir William Hunter's groom. It was from the Baronet, and its contents informed Mr Hope that his attendance would not be required at the almshouses in future, as their inmates were placed under the medical superintendence of Mr Walcot. "I am glad," said Hester. "No more danger and insult from that quarter!" "Nor funds either, my dear. It is pleasant enough to have no insult and danger to apprehend; but what will you say to having no funds?" "We shall see when that time comes, love. Meantime, here is breakfast, and the sweet Sunday all before us?" The pressure of her hand by her husband effaced all woes, present and future. "Who is Mr Walcot?" asked Margaret. "Somebody from Blickley, I suppose," said Hester. "No," replied Hope. "Mr Walcot is a surgeon, last from Cheltenham, who settled in Deerbrook at seven o'clock yesterday evening, and who has already swept the greater part of the practice of the place, I suspect. He is, no doubt, the `better doctor,' `the new man,' of whom we have heard so much of late."