"It was so good of Cara to spare her a whole evening, just when they were finishing the last chapter of 'Trench's Parables,' and she wanted her to begin Bossuet's life. It was very unselfish of Cara," she went on, smoothing down the soft grey merino, with its fresh lace ruffles; for Miss Faith was not without her pet vanities, and fine lace ruffles round the neck and wrists were her special weakness. As they crossed the road Garth emerged from the lane that led to Church-Stile House. A gleam of pleasure overspread his face as he greeted them. "Good evening, Miss Faith; what an age it is since we have seen you. How are the rest of the cardinal virtues? and what new book-torture is Miss Charity inflicting on you? By-the-bye, ladies, have you heard the wonderful intelligence? the new doctor has made his appearance." "No; oh, tell us all about it!" exclaimed the three. "Who is he? What is his name? Is he young and nice-looking; or is he old, and stout, and horridly uninteresting?" this last from Cathy. Garth looked benignantly at their agitated countenances. Their curiosity imparted a relish to the news. Here he had been in possession of the latest intelligence for at least half an hour; had met the new-comer with Mr. Logan, and had shaken hands with him; had discussed the weather and the crops, after the usual manner of Englishmen, while Hepshaw was buried in profound ignorance of the acquisition it had gained. "So you have not heard the news?" he repeated, calmly. "No; of course not. Do be quick, Garth. Who is he?" "Ah, that is the question." "Have you seen him? has any one told you about him? will he live in Dr. Morgan's old house? is he married? has he a tribe of children?" "One question at a time, ladies. Who asked if he were married? Cathy, of course. No; I believe not; but I never asked him." "You have seen him then. Oh, Miss Faith, does he not deserve to be shaken, to keep us in this suspense? Perhaps, after all, he is only a red-headed little apothecary." "That I am sure he is not." "He is nice then?" stimulated to fresh efforts by the twinkle in her brother's eye. Garth was evidently bent on enjoying himself at their expense. "That depends on what you call nice. He seemed tolerably pleasant, talked good English without a twang, and had no disagreeable provincial accent." "Young or old?" "About forty, I should say; couldn't answer for a year or two." "Over forty! Then he must be an old bachelor. How dreadfully uninteresting!" "I will repeat that speech to Mr. Logan." Cathy moved aside as if she had been stung. Miss Faith hazarded the next question rather timidly: "Was he tall or short?" "Neither the one nor the other."