"Dr. Stewart! have we ever heard of him, sister?" asked Miss Charity, a little sarcastically, and appealing to Miss Hope. "If you have I dare say you have forgotten it; ten years is a long time for ladies' memories. I was house-surgeon in the hospital at Carlisle, where your sister worked." "Humph!" responded Miss Charity, dryly. Dr. Stewart's eyes twinkled at the sight of Faith's despondent face; he was quite master of the position. Miss Charity's cool reception did not daunt him in the least. He placed himself leisurely by the side of the little square couch, and eyed its occupant curiously; he turned over the books that were piled on the narrow table beside her, and read their titles one after another, and then he began to talk. How he talked! Faith's downcast face brightened; after a time she became less nervous. Dr. Stewart did not address himself to her, he seemed to ignore her existence completely. He talked to Charity, who let her knitting fall out of her hot, dry fingers as she listened; to Miss Hope, sitting there erect and open-eyed; even to poor, grim Miss Prudence, to whom few people talked. Faith raised her soft eyes every now and then in surprise; she had no idea Dr. Stewart was such a clever, well-read man; his brusqueness did not jar on her now. To judge by his conversation he might have read half the books that were written. He swallowed up Miss Charity's little modicum of information in a moment, and left her high and dry, with all her long sentences unsaid. Miss Hope gasped and said, "There, now, would you have believed it!" to the stock of choice anecdotes with which he regaled them. Never were four maiden ladies so well entertained on a summer's afternoon. Even Miss Prudence, the most rigid of housekeepers, counted over her scanty store of preserves mentally, and decided to ask him to tea. Faith almost held her breath for the next moment; but Dr. Stewart accepted the invitation with alacrity. While the tea was brewing and Miss Prudence hunted out a remnant of rich cake, he drew his chair a little closer to Miss Charity, and questioned her somewhat minutely on the subject of her accident. "You suffer, of course, a great deal? It is a complicated case, I fear." "Yes; I have had my share of pain," she answered cheerfully. The sharp angles had relaxed now. "And your prospect of ease is small?" "Ah, well! it might be worse," she returned resignedly; and somehow the restless bright eyes and thin ringlets were less repellant to him. "I have bad times and good times, and have to lie here and make the best of it. We need to have broken wills, Dr. Stewart." "Cara is so very patient," interposed Faith, leaning over her sister's couch. Miss Charity gave her an odd little push. "No; I am dreadfully cross, and give heaps of trouble. One's pain gets into one's temper. Faith's been a good girl to me all these years; I don't know what I should have done without her."