William put out his hand; there was a second's hesitation, then Lloyd Pryor took it--and dropped it quickly. "All well?" the doctor asked awkwardly. "Yes; yes. All well. Very well, thank you. Yes." "I was just passing. I thought perhaps your sister would be pleased if I inquired; she didn't know I was coming, but--" "You are very kind, I'm sure," the other broke in, his face relaxing. "I am sorry that just at this moment I can't ask you to stay, but--" "Certainly not," William King said shortly; "I was just passing. If you have any message for Mrs. Richie--" "Oh! Ah;--yes. Remember me to her. All well in Old Chester? Very kind in you to look me up. I am sorry I--that it happens that--good-by--" Dr. King nodded and took himself off; and Lloyd Pryor, closing the door upon him, wiped the moisture from his forehead. "Alice, where are you?" "In the dining-room, daddy dear," she said. "Who is Dr. King?" He gave her a furtive look and then put his arm over her shoulder. "Nobody you know, Kitty." "He said something about 'Mrs. Richie';--who is Mrs. Richie?" "Some friend of his, probably. Got anything good for dinner, sweetheart?" As for William King, he walked briskly down the street, his face very red. "Confound him!" he said. He was conscious of a desire to kick something. That evening, after a bleak supper at a marble-topped restaurant table, he tried to divert himself by going to see a play; he saw so many other things that he came out in the middle of it. "I guess I can get all the anatomy I want in my trade," he told himself; and sat down in the station to await the midnight train. It was not until the next afternoon, when he climbed into the stage at Mercer and piled his own and Martha's bundles on the rack above him, that he really settled down to think the thing over.... What did it mean? The man had been willing to eat his bread; he had shown no offence at anything; what the deuce--! He pondered over it, all the way to Old Chester. When Martha, according to the custom of wives, inquired categorically concerning his day in Philadelphia, he dragged out most irritatingly vague answers. As she did not chance to ask, "Did you hunt up Mr. Lloyd Pryor? Did you go to his house? Did you expect an invitation and not receive it?" she was not informed on these topics. But when at last she did say, "And my sachet-powder?" he was compelled to admit that he had forgotten it. Martha's lip tightened. "I got the lye and stuff," her husband defended himself. "And what did you want sachet-powder for, anyway?" But Martha was silent. After supper William strolled over to Dr. Lavendar's, and sat smoking stolidly for an hour before he unbosomed himself. Dr. Lavendar did not notice his uncommunicativeness; he had his own preoccupations. "William, Benjamin Wright seems to be a good deal shaken this spring?" Silence. "He's allowed himself to grow old. Bad habit." Silence.