"I can't go back any moa, Mrs. Landa," cried the girl, from the exasperation of her own nerves. "Then I will go back myself," said Mrs. Lander with dignity, "and we sha'n't need the gondoler any more this mo'ning," she added, "unless you and Mr. Hinkle wants to ride." She got ponderously out of the boat with the help of the gondolier's elbow, and marched into the house again, while Clementina followed her. She did not offer to help her up the stairs; Hinkle had to do it, and he met the girl slowly coming up as he returned from delivering Mrs. Lander over to Maddalena. "She's all right, now," he ventured to say, tentatively. "Is she?" Clementina coldly answered. In spite of her repellent air, he persisted, "She's a pretty sick woman, isn't she?" "The docta doesn't say." "Well, I think it would be safe to act on that supposition. Miss Clementina--I think she wants to see you." "I'm going to her directly." Hinkle paused, rather daunted. "She wants me to go for the doctor." "She's always wanting the docta." Clementina lifted her eyes and looked very coldly at him. "If I were you I'd go up right away," he said, boldly. She felt that she ought to resent his interference, but the mild entreaty of his pale blue eyes, or the elder-brotherly injunction of his smile, forbade her. "Did she ask for me?" "No." "I'll go to her," she said, and she kept herself from smiling at the long sigh of relief he gave as she passed him on the stairs. Mrs. Lander began as soon as she entered her room, "Well, I was just wonderin' if you was goin' to leave me here all day alone, while you staid down the'e, carryin' on with that simpleton. I don't know what's got into the men." "Mr. Hinkle has gone for the docta," said Clementina, trying to get into her voice the kindness she was trying to feel. "Well, if I have one of my attacks, now, you'll have yourself to thank for it." By the time Dr. Tradonico appeared Mrs. Lander was so much better that in her revulsion of feeling she was all day rather tryingly affectionate in her indirect appeals for Clementina's sympathy. "I don't want you should mind what I say, when I a'n't feelin' just right," she began that evening, after she had gone to bed, and Clementina sat looking out of the open window, on the moonlit lagoon. "Oh, no," the girl answered, wearily. Mrs. Lander humbled herself farther. "I'm real sorry I plagued you so, to-day, and I know Mr. Hinkle thought I was dreadful, but I couldn't help it. I should like to talk with you, Clementina, about something that's worryin' me, if you a'n't busy." "I'm not busy, now, Mrs. Lander," said Clementina, a little coldly, and relaxing the clasp of her hands; to knit her fingers together had been her sole business, and she put even this away.