Breakfast had not been carried up till a full hour after Doris's departure; and for that she had to bear full blame, though it was not her fault. Mrs. Brutt had been "quite ill" in consequence, and alone all the morning,—an additional grievance. Doris was a most selfish, thoughtless, unkind girl! So ungrateful!—considering all that she owed to the speaker. Mrs. Brutt would not have believed it of her. But one knew nothing of people till one travelled with them,—a statement which Doris could have endorsed. She tried to explain, but in vain. The more she tried, the more Mrs. Brutt enlarged on her wrongs. Somehow, all this did not sting like home-worries; perhaps because Doris's mind was full of new interests. She kept her temper, and at length said— "If you are ill why not see a doctor?" "So unkind!—when you know there is no doctor to be had in this wretched place!" moaned Mrs. Brutt, by this time reduced to the abject stage. "But I might die, for all you would care." Doris let this pass, and remarked that there was a doctor—an English one to boot—in that very hotel. The news proved reviving. Mrs. Brutt loved nothing better than to be medically discussed and liberally dosed; and her spirits at once improved. So when Maurice came in, he found another patient awaiting him; not always a welcome event on a man's holiday. But since she belonged to Doris, he had not the smallest objection. To the latter he confided that he had left Ramsay very ill, and that he feared an operation might prove needful. He would spend the night at the châlet. No, he could not make his intended ascent next day. "But how awfully disappointing for you!" He smiled at that. "Oh, it's all right," he said cheerfully. "You'll go another day instead?" "I hope so." He then explained that, in the nick of time, a brother-in-law of Ramsay's had telegraphed to say that he and his wife were coming immediately to join them. Nothing could be better. The wife was an experienced nurse; the husband was a first-rate climber, a member of the Alpine Club. "Their coming will make it quite easy, I hope, to manage our little expedition," he added. "Pressford is equal to any guide. We'll take you somewhere between us, sooner or later." "Will you—really—?" in a tone of rapture. "I'll do my very best to bring it about—I promise you." After which he spent a full half-hour, listening to the catalogue of Mrs. Brutt's symptoms, which were of such abounding interest for herself, that she could not imagine their having less interest for other people. He could have prescribed for her in five minutes, with ease; but then he would have failed to win her confidence.