Katherine turned away, pretending to busy herself with setting the room in order. In reality, she was very differently employed. Her stern young mind had constituted itself court, counsel, and jury, to sit in judgment upon her grandmother, and, according to the findings, convict her without privilege of appeal. She could see nothing that was not contemptible in the old woman’s mode of living, her view of life. If she were poor, it would be different. There might be some excuse then, for this paltry measuring of everything by the standard of a copper cent. But, her grandmother had plenty, and more than plenty. If she stinted, it was merely to add more to an already ample fortune. And, meanwhile, youth, hope, dreams, all were vanishing. The best of life was being wilfully sacrificed to a mean whim. She knew the people ’round about, the "natives," turned up their noses at "ol’ lady Crewe," and pitied her, Katherine, for being the granddaughter of a "tight-wad." It made her shrink from meeting the commonest acquaintance, when she considered how odious her position was, and how well every one knew it. The doctor came early, while she was still smarting with a sense of her wrongs. "I’ve brought a battery," he explained, indicating the instrument Sam Slawson was assisting him to unearth from the bowels of the runabout. "It’s not my own. Dr. Driggs kindly lent it. I had a chat with him over the ’phone last night, after I got home, and he agrees with me that electricity will be—— "If Dr. Driggs is back, why didn’t he come himself?" Katherine interrupted, so sensitively on edge that the most innocent suggestion jarred. The young man before her looked blank for a moment. Then a tolerant smile stole into his fine, wholesome face. "Precisely the question I put to him. But, he said he’d thank me kindly if I’d go on with the case." Katherine winced. She knew why Dr. Driggs was not keen on coming to Crewesmere. Dr. Ballard noticed the painful twitching of her brows, and instantly regretted his reply. To mend matters he began, at once, to explain why he was obliged to borrow of a fellow-practitioner, and to call upon Sam Slawson to be his charioteer. "You see, I’m not here in the village in my official capacity. I only came for—well, on a sort of venture. But I like it, and I’ve sent for my—I mean, I’ve sent for a machine to get about in, by myself. I was feeling a bit seedy. I’m here for repairs. I belong in Boston—my office is there, and my heavy artillery’s in it. But if electric treatment seems to agree with Madam Crewe, I’ll send, and have my portable battery shipped on with the motor. It’s quite at her service, as _I_ am. It’s rather more modern than this, and—more—effective." As Sam Slawson remarked to his wife later, he was surprised at the manner in which Miss Crewe received the doctor’s friendly advance.