"But I like it. I worked with my father, all the spring, and now I am going to Philadelphia to study there. Didn't you know I set your arm?" "No." He looked at her, with frank admiration shining in his eyes. "Did you, honestly? Dr. Starr said it was a wonder that it hadn't slipped out of place any more." "I'm glad if I did any good," she said with sudden humility. "I must go now, for it is past dinner time." She turned to go away. Then she came back again and held out her strong, ringless hand. "I'm so sorry," she said hurriedly; "sorry for all I have made you ache, and sorry for all the hateful things I have said to you." "Don't think about that any more," he said heartily, as he took her hand. "Have you told your father, Miss McAlister?" "Not yet." "Please don't. There's no use in saying anything more about it, And now promise me that you will forget it,--as a favor to me, please." As he spoke, he looked steadily into Phebe's eyes, and her eyes drooped. For the first time in her life, Phebe McAlister had become self-conscious in the presence of a young man. He dropped her hand and raised his cap once more. "Good-by, doctor," he said; and, turning, he walked away and left her alone. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN "Mel-chisedek!" As who should say "What, ma'am?" Melchisedek lifted his snubby little nose and gazed inquiringly at Theodora. Then he went back to his assaults on the corner of the rug. Melchisedek's mother had been a thrifty soul; in her young son's puppyhood, she had impressed upon him the fact that well-trained dogs should bury superfluous food supplies, to be held in reserve for the hour of need. Cicely had been too lavish, that morning, in her allowance. Melchisedek had eaten until his small legs stuck out stiffly from his distended little body, and now he was endeavoring to bury the remainder of his meal in the folds of the rug. The room was a large one, and it took a perceptible time for Theodora to reach the scene of action. Melchisedek's efforts increased in vigor as she came nearer, and, just as she stooped to catch him, he succeeded in folding the end of her ancient Persian rug above an overturned Chelsea saucer and a widening pool of oatmeal and cream. Then he retired under the table and smiled suavely up at her, while she removed the debris. It was now two weeks since they had returned from Quantuck, and the year was at the fall of the leaf. The Savins was covered with a thick carpet of golden brown, and the birches and hickories were blazing with gold, while the corner house was set in a nest of crimson and yellow and scarlet maples. For the hour, earth was almost as radiant as the sun; but the quiet drop, drop, drop of the yellow leaves through the golden, hazy air told that the end was not far distant, that too soon the gold would give place to the grey and the brown.