"Yes," an old peasant woman told him; "certainly they had a doctor, but he was out just now; he was with Mme. Chillon up at a farm a mile away. There was no use in going to the doctor's house, but if the boy would follow him there, to the said farm, he might catch him before he went farther away, for there were to be festivities that night, and their good doctor was always in requisition as the best dancer in the place." So Joe followed the doctor to the farm a mile away, and was so fortunate as to find him just before he was about to ride off to the fete mentioned by the old peasant. Joe, owing to his long residence in England, could only speak broken French, but his agitation, his great earnestness, what little French he could muster, were so far eloquent as to induce the young doctor, instead of postponing his visit to the hut in the forest until the morning, to decide to give up his dance and go with the boy instead. Joe's intention was to direct the doctor to the hut, and then, without returning thither himself, set off at once on his search for Anton. This, however, the medical man would not permit. He was not acquainted with the forest; he would not go there at so late an hour on any consideration without a guide, so Joe had to change his mind and go with him. They walked along rapidly, the doctor wondering if there was any chance of his still being in time for his promised dance, the boy too unhappy, too plunged in gloom, to be able to utter a word. It was nearly dark in the forest shade when at last they reached the little tumbledown hut. But what was the matter? The place Joe had left so still, so utterly without any sound except that made by one weak and wandering voice, seemed suddenly alive. When the doctor and the boy entered, voices, more than one, were speaking eagerly. There was life, color, and movement in the deserted little place. Bending over the sick child, and tenderly placing a cool handkerchief dipped in cold water on her brow, was a young woman of noble height and proportions. Her face was sunshiny and beautiful, and even in the gathering darkness Joe could see that her head was crowned with a great wealth of golden hair. This young woman, having laid the handkerchief on Cecile's forehead, raised her then tenderly in her arms. As she did so, she turned to address some words in rather broken French to a tall, dark-eyed old woman who stood at the foot of the bed of pine needles. Both women turned when the boy and the man came in, and at sight of the doctor, whom they evidently knew well, they uttered many exclamations of pleasure. The young doctor went over at once to his little patient, but Joe, suddenly putting his hand to his heart, stood still in the door of the hut.