Em. went up to her father, put her arms around his neck and kissed him quietly. “Yes, but you know I ought to have forbidden him the house, though, all the same, Em.,” whispered John Palmer, shaking his head. “Oh, no, no, no, dearest father, no! Your kind heart led you right,” exclaimed Em. “I know I can trust you, Em. You will not disobey me, my girl?” “Oh, never, never, father! I will never do anything you disapprove.” “I know it, my darling. You are safe enough.” “That’s not the question,” snapped Susan. “It’s the girl’s peace and quietness I’m thinking of, and if that young man is to be allowed to come here whenever he pleases, how is she ever to forget him, I’d like to know? Being as things are, the sooner Em. leaves home the better.” “Well,” sighed John, “’twas _you_, Susan, as gave him the heartiest welcome last night, and now you blame me—but ‘sich is life.’” Having finished with his favorite bit of philosophy, John took his pipe from the mantelpiece and walked out to the orchard, where the negroes were gathering winter apples for storing. He had scarcely left the house when Dr. Willet arrived on his morning visit. He tied his horse and walked into the open door of the passage without ceremony. Em. met him as she came out of the kitchen. “Well, my dear, how do you do? How do you like living in the country? It is only a few months since you left town, yet I dare say now it seems to you quite a long while,” said the good doctor cheerfully as he shook hands with the girl. “It seems a lifetime, sir, since we lived in Laundry Lane! Longer even than that. It seems—that period, I mean—to belong to some remote state of pre-existence!” answered Em. “I thought so! I thought so!” said the doctor with evident satisfaction. “So you don’t pine to return?” “Oh, no, sir, no! And yet the old lane and the poor, dear children who still live there!” said Em. compassionately. “Yes, yes. Ah, here comes your mother! Well, Mrs. Palmer, how is our patient to-day?” “Oh, doctor, good-morning to you! She is better, I think. I have just come down from her bedside. She can move her hands and feet, but can’t turn over yet. She can also chew and swallow, but she can’t speak. And she seems to understand every word we say to her, but she can’t answer except by signs.” “Just so, but all that is a very great improvement since yesterday. I will go up and see her.” “Oh, doctor, wasn’t it a Providence you being in the neighborhood just at this time?” “It was fortunate,” said Dr. Willet as he followed Mrs. Palmer upstairs. Em. took her workbasket and sat down to sew until the return of her mother and the physician. After an absence of about twenty minutes they came down the steps, talking cheerfully, the doctor more than confirming the hopeful report of the nurse as to the old patient’s amendment. When Dr. Willet had taken a kindly leave of all the family and had ridden away Em. said to her mother: