She was in bed, pale with suffering, and a surgeon was setting her broken ankle. Esther came softly to her side, slipped her hand into hers, and stood still, watching the operation. It was like an anæsthetic in its soothing effect upon the patient— this fresh young face, with hair and eyes like Margaret's, the perfume of the flowers filling the room, and the warm little hand in hers. Esther watched the surgeon's fingers curiously. How swift and cool their movements!—no uncertainty or clumsiness. A lady sorting embroidery silks could not work more delicately. As he put the finishing touches to his task Esther almost forgot there was any pain connected with it, and found herself wondering if he did not enjoy what he could do so deftly and neatly. Then for the first time she let her gaze rest upon his face. He was a young man—she had thought surgeons were always old or elderly. It was a strong, pure face, with wavy dark hair falling carelessly over the broad forehead. It was but a few seconds, but girls can think much in that time. She decided that hair was much more becoming worn so than plastered down in a precise manner, as she was accustomed to see it. He was surely not in the least like the young men of her acquaintance. Sire tried to fancy him arrayed in swallow-tail coat, light kids and slippers, dancing, and talking nonsense at an evening party. He could never be one of that sort, she was sure. He was too grave and earnest to be a trifler. When he had finished his work, he lifted a pair of clear, penetrating eyes to hers, and they surveyed each other an instant; then the doctor bowed, and Esther turned and, bending down, whispered a few words to Mrs. Lyman, left her flowers on the pillow, and a kiss on the worn cheek, and glided away. She made one or two more calls that she had left till the last, and was passing through the hall to go home, when a nurse met her and asked her to come in and sing to old Mrs. Moore. She had been very ill for many days, and they hoped the singing might quiet her nervous restlessness, and soothe her to sleep. Esther went willingly; she loved to sing, and loved to help others. But here was that eagle-eyed doctor to spoil it. She wished he would go, but he did not. There was a tall old rocker by the bed, where they motioned her to sit, but she took her place at the back of the chair and folded her hands over its top. Standing so, the doctor could not see her face. He could hear, though, and to that he gave himself. Resting his head on his hand, he closed his eyes and let the sweet melody flow over him.