"I'm trying to find out. It is all about the woman herself. Ah, here we are. 'Doris is writing to Mr. Winton about her new craze for climbing. She went partly up one peak with Mr. Maurice and Mr. Pressford.' Now, which of them is the doctor? 'And Mr. Pressford had a bad fall, and was stunned. Such a mercy that they had a doctor in their party!' So Mr. Maurice is the individual. 'Doris will tell you all that happened. She seems to have helped the others out of their difficulty really most cleverly.'" Mrs. Winton was scandalised. "I never heard anything like it! Two full-grown men!—and a girl having to get them out of their difficulties. What next, I wonder?" "Mr. Maurice was supporting his friend on the rope, and he was unable to move. Doris explains." "Then he had no business to support his friend! They ought both to have been looking after her." Mrs. Winton reverted to her letter. "'He is such an agile young fellow. But if an experienced climber like Mr. Pressford can have a fall, one feels that anything might happen; and really I must refuse any more responsibility in the matter.' I see she says later that Mr. Maurice is beginning to practise in Edinburgh— and is 'extremely well thought of!' I suppose he told her so himself! I wonder what Mr. Hamilton Stirling would say to all this!" The Rector grunted. He did not want anybody to carry off his pretty Doris; but it was conceivable that a lively young Alpinist might be better than a human Encyclopaedia. "I don't know what you think, Sylvester, but I consider that it is time for Doris to come home." "Here's the Squire. Ask him." Mr. Stirling walked in, apologising for the hour. He had ridden over before breakfast, secure of supplying his needs at the Rectory and hardly was he seated before Mrs. Winton had launched into the subject of the two letters. The Rector, studying him, decided that something was out of gear. He looked worn, almost old; and at first he seemed abstracted. Something in a sentence from Doris's letter called up his full attention with a jump. "A new accomplishment for Doris," was his first remark, and it was said with a forced smile. Then he asked carelessly how the young doctor's name was spelt. Extracts from the elder lady came next, with emendations from Mrs. Winton. "I dislike this sort of thing for Doris—extremely. Mrs. Brutt ought to have known better than to allow it. She seems infatuated. I dare say the young doctor is well enough in his way; but I do not choose that Doris should be mixed up with all sorts of people." The Squire had ceased eating, and was lost in thought. "On the whole," he remarked, "I am disposed to advise a recall. You will be wise to have Doris home." Mr. Winton was again conscious of a perplexing element in tone and manner. Mrs. Winton, taken up with her own view of matters, noticed nothing.