"Oh, Cara! please don't speak so," whispered poor Faith with tears in her eyes. It was Dr. Stewart who said "Humph!" now. He glanced curiously at the two women before him. Faith was considered quite a girl still by her sisters. "I have a temper myself; I believe every one has, though he or she will not always own to it," he remarked coolly, as he placed himself by Miss Prudence, and helped himself liberally to seed cake. It was getting quite dark when he rose at last to take leave. Faith accompanied him to the door. "Well, is your headache better? you are not quite so pale," he asked, not unkindly, as they stood together. "Yes; the walk and the tea has done it good," she answered evasively. What if he should guess at her sleepless night? "I hoped I should have come in for a compliment, and that my conversation might have helped to charm it away. You used not to be so matter-of-fact, Miss Faith." Such a rush of color answered him. "I wonder you recollect so long ago," she returned somewhat unsteadily. "I wonder at it myself. Perhaps you have helped to jog my memory. Well, well, we were young and foolish once. So this has been your life for the last ten years?" "Yes; just this, and nothing else," with a sigh. "No wonder you are thin, and have forgotten how to smile. Ten years of this sort of thing! Well, you women beat us after all;" and then he turned on his heel and went down the little garden path bordered by Faith's roses. In a very little while Dr. Stewart took up his position in Hepshaw, and buckled to his work in a stout, uncompromising manner that seemed natural to him. From his patients he reaped golden opinions, in spite of a deeply-rooted dislike of humbug, and a tendency to shrug his shoulders impatiently over feminine fads and fancies. He was soon a general favorite. He was prompt and kind-hearted; in cases of real suffering nothing could exceed his patience and watchfulness. People soon got over his little brusqueness, and said openly that Dr. Stewart was a real acquisition to the neighborhood. He had taken temporary lodgings in the village; but report was already busy with the fact that Juniper Lodge, Dr. Morgan's old house, next door to the Misses Palmer, had been visited more than once by the new surgeon. By-and-bye suspicion became certainty, when painters and workmen arrived on the premises. Soon the forlorn exterior of Juniper Lodge began to wear a brighter look--the old green verandah was repainted, fresh papers and plenty of whitewash made the dark old rooms habitable, the evergreen shrubs were cut down or transplanted, the walks weeded and gravelled, a van-load of furniture made its appearance, and a tidy-looking woman with a pleasant Scotch face, answering to the name of Jean, took up her residence. The next day there was a brass plate up; and Dr. Stewart quietly walked into the Evergreens, and announced formally to the sisters that he was their next-door neighbor.