"Cousin Homer, could you find it convenient not to rock?" asked Miss Phoebe, with stately courtesy. "Certainly, Cousin Phoebe. I beg your pardon." It was one of Miss Phoebe's crosses that Mr. Homer would always sit in this particular chair, and would rock; the more so that when not engaged in conversation he was apt to open and shut his mouth in unison with the motion of the rockers. Miss Phoebe disapproved of rocking-chairs, and would gladly have banished this one, had it not belonged to her mother. "I have occasionally offered to read to Cousin Marcia," Mr. Homer continued, "from the works of Keats and--other bards; but she has uniformly received the suggestion in a spirit of--mockery; of--derision; of--contumely. The last time I mentioned it, she exclaimed 'Cat's foot!' The expression struck me, I confess, as--strange; as--singular; as--extraordinary." "It is an old-fashioned expression, Cousin Homer," Miss Vesta put in, gently. "I have heard our Grandmother Darracott use it, Sister Phoebe." "There's nothing improper in it, is there?" said Doctor Stedman. "Really, my dear James," said Miss Phoebe, bending a literally awful brow on her guest, "I trust not. Do you mean to imply that the conversation of gentlewomen of my aunt's age is apt to be improper?" "No, no," said Doctor Stedman, easily. "It only seemed to me that you were making a good deal of Mrs. Tree's little eccentricities. But, Phoebe, you said something a few minutes ago that I was very glad to hear. It is pleasant to know that I am still your family physician. That young fellow who went off the other day seems to have taken every heart in the village in his pocket. A young rascal!" Miss Phoebe colored and drew herself up. "Sister Phoebe," Miss Vesta breathed rather than spoke, "James is in jest. He has the highest opinion of--" "Vesta, I _think_ I have my senses," said Miss Phoebe, kindly. "I have heard James use exaggerated language before. Candor compels me to admit, James, that I have benefited greatly by the advice and prescriptions of Doctor Strong; also that, though deploring certain aspects of his conduct while under our roof--I will say no more, having reconciled myself entirely to the outcome of the matter--we have become deeply attached to him. He is"--Miss Phoebe's voice quavered slightly--"he is a chosen spirit." "Dear Geoffrey!" murmured Miss Vesta. "But in spite of this," Miss Phoebe continued, graciously, "we feel the ties of ancient friendship as strongly as ever, James, and must always value you highly, whether as physician or as friend." "Yes, indeed, dear James," said Miss Vesta, softly. Doctor Stedman rose from his seat. His eyes were very tender as he looked at the sisters from under his shaggy eyebrows.