Elizabeth returned to Market Harford on a fine November afternoon. The sun was shining, after two days’ rain, and Elizabeth walked up from the station, leaving her luggage to the carrier. It was quite a short walk, but she met so many acquaintances that she was some time reaching home. First, it was old Dr. Bull with his square face and fringe of stiff grey beard who waved his knobbly stick at her, and waddled across the road. He was a great friend of Elizabeth’s, and he greeted her warmly. “Now, now, Miss Elizabeth, so you’ve not quite deserted us, hey? Glad to be back, hey?” “Yes, very glad,” said Elizabeth, smiling. “And every one will be glad to see you, all your friends. Hey? I’m glad, Edward and Mary’ll be glad, and David—hey? David’s a friend of yours, isn’t he? Used to be, I know, in the old days. Prodigious allies you were. Always in each other’s pockets. Same books—same walks—same measles—” he laughed heartily, and then broke off. “David wants his friends,” he said, “for the matter of that, every one wants friends, hey? But you get David to come and see you, my dear. He won’t want much persuading, hey? Well, well, I won’t keep you. I mustn’t waste your time. Now that I’m idle, I forget that other people have business, hey? And I see Miss Dobell coming over to speak to you. Now, I wouldn’t waste her time for the world. Not for the world, my dear Miss Elizabeth. Good-day, good-day, good-day.” His eyes twinkled as he raised his hat, and he went off at an astonishing rate, as Miss Dobell picked her way across the road. “Such a fine man, Dr. Bull, I always think,” she remarked in her precise little way. Every word she uttered had the effect of being enclosed in a separate little water-tight compartment. “I really miss him, if I may say so. Oh, yes; and I am not the only one of his old patients who feels it a deprivation to have lost his services. Oh, no. Young men are so unreliable. They begin well, but they are unreliable. Oh, yes, sadly unreliable,” repeated Miss Dobell with emphasis. She and Elizabeth were crossing the bridge as she spoke. Away to the left, above the water, Elizabeth could see the sunlight reflected from the long line of windows which faced the river. The trees before them were almost leafless, and it was easy to distinguish one house from another. David Blake lived in the seventh house, and Miss Dobell was gazing very pointedly in that direction, and nodding her head. “I dislike gossip,” she said. “I set my face against gossip, my dear Elizabeth, I do not approve of it. I do not talk scandal nor permit it to be talked in my presence. But I am not blind, or deaf. Oh, no. We should be thankful when we have all our faculties, and mine are unimpaired, oh, yes, quite unimpaired, although I am not quite as young as you are.” “Yes?” said Elizabeth.