“Yes, indeed, the Cantrells, the bakers--people who know their own mind, Dr. Burnet. They went over the house yesterday, every corner, from the drawing-room to the dustbin; and they were delighted with it, and they settled everything this morning. They are going to set up a carriage, and, in short, to become county people--if they can,” Miss Mildmay said. “They are very respectable,” said Mrs. Shanks. “Of course, Ruth Mildmay is only laughing when she speaks of county people--but I should like to ask her, after she has got into it, to show me the house.” “The Cantrells--the bakers!” cried Dr. Burnet, with a despair which was half grotesque, “in _my_ house! This is a very dreadful thing for me, Miss Katherine, though I see that you are disposed to laugh. I have been thinking of it for some time as my house. I have been settling all the rooms, where this was to be and where that was to be.” Here he paused a moment, and gave her a look which was startling, but which Katherine, notwithstanding her experience with the Turnys, etc., did not immediately understand. And then he grew a little red under his somewhat sunburnt weather-beaten complexion, and cried--“What am I to do? It unsettles everything. The Cantrells! in my house.” “You see, it doesn’t do to shilly-shally, doctor,” said Miss Mildmay. “You should come to the point. While you think about it someone else is sure to come in and do it. And the Cantrells are people that know their own minds.” “Yes, indeed,” he said--“yes, indeed,” shaking his head. “Poor George--they know their own minds with a vengeance. That poor fellow now is very likely to go to the dogs.” “No; he will go to London,” said the other old lady. “I know some such nice people there in the same trade, and I have recommended him to them. You know the people, Katherine--they used to send us down such nice French loaves by the parcel post, that time when I quarrelled with the old Cantrells, don’t you remember, about----” “I don’t think there is any other house about Sliplin that will suit you now, Dr. Burnet,” said Miss Mildmay. “You will have to wait a little, and keep on the look-out.” “I suppose so,” he said dejectedly, thrusting his hands down to the depths of his pockets, as if it were possible that he should find some consolation there. And he saw the two ladies out with great civility, putting them into the midge with a care for their comfort which melted their hearts. “I should wait a little now, if I were you,” said Miss Mildmay, gripping his hand for a moment with the thin old fingers, which she had muffled up in coarse woollen gloves drawn on over the visiting kid. “I should wait a little, since you have let this chance slip.” “Do you think so?” he said. “Ruth Mildmay,” said Mrs. Shanks, when they had driven away. “This is not treating me fairly. There is something private between you and that young man which you have never disclosed to me.”