"What do you mean by conditions?" said Hetty, never having heard, in her simple and healthful life, of anybody's needing what is called a "change of scene." Dr. Eben smiled again, and, as he smiled, he noted with an involuntary professional delight the clear, fine skin, the firm flesh, the lustrous eye, the steady poise of every muscle in this woman, who was catechising him, with so evident a doubt as to his skill and information. "I hardly think, Miss Gunn," he went on, "that I could make you understand, in your superb health, just all I mean by change of conditions. It means change of food, air, surroundings; every thing in short, which addresses itself to the senses. It means an entire new set of nerve impressions." "Sally isn't in the least nervous," broke in Hetty. "She's always as quiet as a mouse." "You mean that she isn't in the least fidgety," replied the doctor. "That is quite another thing. Some of the most nervous people I know have absolute quiet of manner. Mrs. Little's nervous system has been for several years under a terrible strain. When I was first called to her, I thought her trouble and suffering would kill her; and I didn't think it would take so long. But it is that which is killing her now." Hetty was not listening: she was thinking very perplexedly of what the doctor had said a few moments before; interrupting him now, she said, "Would it do Sally good to take her to another place? that is easily done." Dr. Eben hesitated. "I think sea-air might help her; but I am not sure," he replied. "Would you go with us?" asked Hetty. "She wouldn't go without you." The doctor hesitated again. He looked into Hetty's eyes: they were fixed on his as steadily, as unembarrassedly, as if he and Hetty had been comrades for years. "What a woman she is," he thought to himself, "to coolly ask me to become their travelling physician, when for six weeks I have been coming to the house every day, and she would not even speak to me!" "I am not sure that I could, Miss Gunn," he replied. Hetty's face changed. A look of distress stamped every feature. "Oh, Dr. Williams, do!" she exclaimed. "Sally would never go without you; and she will die, you say, unless she has change." Then hesitating, and turning very red, Hetty stammered, "I can pay you any thing--which would be necessary to compensate you: we have money enough." Dr. Eben bowed, and answered with some asperity: "The patients that I had hesitancy about leaving are patients who pay me nothing. It is not in the least a question of money, Miss Gunn." "Forgive me," exclaimed Hetty, "I did not know--I thought--" "Your thought was a perfectly natural one, Miss Gunn," interrupted the doctor, pitying her confusion. "I have never had need to make my profession a source of income: I have no ambition to be rich; and, as I am alone in the world, I can afford to do what many other physicians could not."