"Nonsense!" Dr. Lavendar told her. "He is a man of business, and I'm a forgetful old codger. I knew William, and I ought to have remembered." But Miss Lydia's face had fallen into such drawn and anxious lines that Dr. Lavendar had to do his best to cheer her. He began to ask questions: How long was it since she had been in Mercer? Was she going to call on friends? Was she going to shop? "I believe you ladies always want to shop?" said Dr. Lavendar, kindly. And somehow Miss Lydia brightened up. Yes; she was going to shop! It was a secret: she couldn't tell Dr. Lavendar yet, but he should know about it first of all. She was so happy, so important, so excited, that her pain at William's business-like ways seemed forgotten; and when in Mercer they separated at the Stage House, she went bustling off into the sunshine, waving a shabby cotton glove at him, and crying, "I haven't a minute to lose!" Dr. Lavendar stood still and shook his head. "Pity," he said--"pity, pity. But I suppose it can't be helped. There's no use telling William about her; he must see it. And there's no use telling her about William; she must see it. No--no use. But it's a pity--a pity." Which shows that Dr. Lavendar had reached that degree of wisdom which knows that successful interference in love affairs must come from the inside, not from the outside. He did not see Miss Lydia again until they met in the afternoon at the Stage House, and for a minute he did not recognize her. She came running and panting, laden with bundles, to the coach door. Indeed, she was so hurried that one of her innumerable packages, a long, slim bundle, slipped from her happy, weary arms, and, hitting the iron drop-step, crashed into fragments and splashed her dress with its contents. "Oh! that's one of my bottles of Catawba," said Miss Lydia. "Dear, dear! Well, never mind; I'll order another." The fragrance of the wine soaking her gloves and the front of her faded dress, filled the stage (in which they were the only passengers), and Miss Lydia joyously licked the two bare finger-tips. "Too bad!" she said; "but accidents will happen." Dr. Lavendar helped her pile her bundles on the front seat, and then he unhooked the swinging strap so that certain parcels could be put on the middle bench. Miss Lydia leaned back with a happy sigh. "The rest will come down to-morrow," she said. "The _rest_?" said Dr. Lavendar. "Oh, I've just got to tell somebody!" she said. "Promise you won't tell?" "I won't tell," he assured her. "Well," said Miss Lydia, "look here--do you see that?" She tore a little hole in a long, flat package, and Dr. Lavendar saw a gleam of blue. "That's a dress. Yes, a blue silk dress--for myself. I'm afraid it was selfish to get a thing just for myself, but that and a pair of white kid gloves and some lace are all I did get; and I've wanted a silk dress, a blue silk dress, ever since I got poor."