“Dr. Breen,” she said, in a repressed tumult, “I hope you won’t give way. For woman’s sake, I hope you won’t! You owe it to yourself not to give way! I’m sure Mrs. Maynard is as well off in your hands as she can be. If I didn’t think so, I should be the last to advise your being firm; but, feeling as I do, I do advise it most strongly. Everything depends on it.” “I don’t know what you mean, Miss Gleason,” said Grace. “I’m glad it hasn’t come to you yet. If it was a question of mere professional pride, I should say, By all means call him at once. But I feel that a great deal more is involved. If you yield, you make it harder for other women to help themselves hereafter, and you confirm such people as these in their distrust of female physicians. Looking at it in a large way, I almost feel that it would be better for her to _die_ than for you to give up; and feeling as I do”— “Are you talking of Mrs. Maynard?” asked Grace. “They are all saying that you ought to give up the case to Dr. Mulbridge. But I hope you won’t. I shouldn’t blame you for calling in another female physician”— “Thank you,” answered Grace. “There is no danger of her dying. But it seems to me that she has too many female physicians already. In this house I should think it better to call a man.” She left the barb to rankle in Miss Gleason’s breast, and followed her mother to her room, who avenged Miss Gleason by a series of inquisitional tortures, ending with the hope that, whatever she did, Grace would not have that silly creature’s blood on her hands. The girl opened her lips to attempt some answer to this unanswerable aspiration, when the unwonted sound of wheels on the road without caught her ear. “What is that, Grace?” demanded her mother, as if Grace were guilty of the noise. “Mr. Libby,” answered Grace, rising. “Has he come for you?” “I don’t know. But I am going down to see him.” At sight of the young man’s face, Grace felt her heart lighten. He had jumped from his buggy, and was standing at his smiling ease on the piazza steps, looking about as if for some one, and he brightened joyfully at her coming. He took her hand with eager friendliness, and at her impulse began to move away to the end of the piazza with her. The ladies had not yet descended to the beach; apparently their interest in Dr. Breen’s patient kept them. “How is Mrs. Maynard this morning?” he asked; and she answered, as they got beyond earshot,— “Not better, I’m afraid.” “Oh, I’m sorry,” said the young man. “Then you won’t be able to drive with me this morning? I hope she isn’t seriously worse?” he added, recurring to Mrs. Maynard at the sight of the trouble in Grace’s face. “I shall _ask_ to drive with you,” she returned. “Mr. Libby, do you know where Corbitant is?” “Oh, yes.” “And will you drive me there?” “Why, certainly!” he cried, in polite wonder.