“Yes, I do,” answered Mrs. Maynard. “Isn’t she too lovely? And she’s just as _good!_ She used to stand up at school for me, when all the girls were down on me because I was Western. And when I came East, this time, I just went right straight to her house. I knew she could tell me exactly what to do. And that’s the reason I’m here. I shall always recommend this air to anybody with lung difficulties. It’s the greatest _thing!_ I’m almost another person. Oh, you needn’t look after _her_, Mr. Libby! There’s nothing flirtatious about Grace,” said Mrs. Maynard. The young man recovered himself from his absentminded stare in the direction Grace had taken, with a frank laugh. “So much the better for a fellow, I should say!” Grace handed the little girl over to her nurse, and went to her own room, where she found her mother waiting to go down to tea. “Where is Mrs. Maynard?” asked Mrs. Breen. “Out on the croquet-ground,” answered the daughter. “I should think it would be damp,” suggested Mrs. Breen. “She will come in when the tea-bell rings. She wouldn’t come in now, if I told her.” “Well,” said the elder lady, “for a person who lets her doctor pay her board, I think she’s very independent.” “I wish you wouldn’t speak of that, mother,” said the girl. “I can’t help it, Grace. It’s ridiculous,—that’s what it is; it’s ridiculous.” “I don’t see anything ridiculous in it. A physician need not charge anything unless he chooses, or she; and if I choose to make Louise my guest here it’s quite the same as if she were my guest at home.” “I don’t like you to have such a guest,” said Mrs. Breen. “I don’t see what claim she has upon your hospitality.” “She has a double claim upon it,” Grace answered, with a flush. “She is in sickness and in trouble. I don’t see how she could have a better claim. Even if she were quite well I should consider the way she had been treated by her husband sufficient, and I should want to do everything I could for her.” “I should want her to behave herself,” said Mrs. Breen dryly. “How behave herself? What do you mean?” demanded Grace, with guilty heat. “You know what I mean, Grace. A woman in her position ought to be more circumspect than any other woman, if she wants people to believe that her husband treated her badly.” “We oughtn’t to blame her for trying to forget her troubles. It’s essential to her recovery for her to be as cheerful as she can be. I know that she’s impulsive, and she’s free in her manners with strangers; but I suppose that’s her Westernism. She’s almost distracted. She was crying half the night, with her troubles, and kept Bella and me both awake.” “Is Bella with her now?” “No,” Grace admitted. “Jane’s getting her ready to go down with us. Louise is talking with a gentleman who came over on the steamer with her; he’s camping on the beach near here. I didn’t wait to hear particulars.”