"Sorry I can't, Mary. It's an old weakness that increases with age. Don't be angry with me, my dear." "I am not angry, Henry; only you do worry me when you will keep talking about Solomon's ships coming here for gold." "If they'd come here for gold, and you had been living at the time, they would have carried you off, for you are richer than refined--" "Now, Henry, I will not sit here and listen to such outrageous flattery of a very ordinary little woman," said the lady, looking angry, but feeling pleased. "You must be a very weak man to have taken a fancy to me." "Let me be weak then, my dear," said the little doctor. "Hush!" exclaimed the lady. "Here is Grey Stuart at the gate;" and they listened to the click of the Chinese-made bamboo latch, and directly after, looking thin and pale, Helen's schoolfellow was admitted. She did not speak, but looked at Mrs Bolter in a weary, dejected manner, that made the little lady take her in her arms, kiss her tenderly, and then place her beside her upon the couch. "Never despair, my dear," she said, cheerily. "There's always room for hope." "That is what I have been trying to think for days past," sighed Grey; "but the trouble only seems to grow darker." "Don't say that, my dear," exclaimed Mrs Bolter. "For my part, I will not believe the story of the boat accident; and I have always this consolation--that wherever that foolish girl may be, she has my brother by her side." Mrs Bolter felt her cheeks burn a little as she said this; for in her heart of hearts she had not the faith in her brother's prudence and ability to protect a lady that she professed. She glanced at the doctor, and her face became a little hotter, for he too was watching her, and she felt that he was reading her thoughts. "I will try and be as hopeful as you are, dear Mrs Bolter; but it is very hard!" "Bless the child! I did not think she felt so warm an affection for Helen Perowne," thought Mrs Bolter; "but it shows how good a heart she has." Then aloud: "Oh, how tiresome! Here is that dreadful Mrs Barlow coming!" "Say I'm out, my dear," whispered the doctor, hurriedly. "I'll slip round through the surgery." "I cannot say you are out, Henry," said the little lady, reprovingly; "but I will say that you are particularly engaged." "Yes, my dear--an operation," whispered the doctor. "I shall say nothing of the kind, Harry!" exclaimed Mrs Bolter, sternly. "But she will want to see me, and describe her symptoms." "Then she cannot see you," replied the little lady, with dignity. "I will take care of that." Dr Bolter stepped out by one door, and he had hardly closed it after him, when Mrs Barlow entered by the other. "Ah, my dear Mrs Bolter," she sobbed, kissing her in spite of a strong objection evinced by the little lady. "Ah, my dear Miss Stuart, these are terrible times."