Now Mrs. Duncan’s drawing-room was in daily use, and perhaps that was one reason why it always looked so comfortable. Her husband and big son Magnus, both doctors and now partners, used to say they found it more refreshing than anything after a long hard round of visits to drop into a chair beside “little mother” in the drawing-room, and just listen to the click of her knitting-needles as she chatted away until tea was brought in. And no tea, Dr. Duncan was wont to declare, ever tasted half so good as that brewed by his wife’s fair hands, for Mrs. Duncan would always have a small copper kettle brought in, so that she could make the tea herself. I do not believe there is one man in a thousand who does not like the sight of a kettle steaming and hissing merrily on the fire, but whether this had anything to do with the flavour of the tea or not I leave my readers to decide for themselves. “A charming picture,” was Mr. Mellis’s thought, as his gaze fell upon the pale-tinted walls with their choice engravings, the overmantel with its old china, the soft-hued furniture and draperies lit up by a pink-shaded standard lamp, and finally upon the little slight fair woman who rose to ring the bell for tea. “And how are my medical friends?” asked Mr. Mellis. “Very well, I am glad to say,” responded Mrs. Duncan, while a tender smile played round her lips. It was easy to see what a wealth of love was centred in the absent husband and son. “It is not every household that can boast of two doctors,” went on Mr. Mellis, smiling. “You ought to be doubly secure against illness.” “And yet the skill of all the medical men in the world could not save my Muriel for me,” sighed Mrs. Duncan; and her eyes grew dim as she thought of the dear sixteen-year-old daughter who had been laid to rest in the lovely “God’s Acre” a few miles outside the great city, just two years before. “No, true. I forgot for the moment,” observed the Rector sympathetically, and a short pause ensued, which was broken by the entrance of Janet with the tea-things. Outside the rain fell heavily in the dirty streets, which were, however, brilliantly lighted, for if there was one thing above another on which the great city of Manningham prided itself, and justly, it was upon its lighting arrangements in general. Inside comfort reigned, but not even the shutters and closely-drawn curtains and the fact that Dr. Duncan’s house stood some yards back from the road could altogether drown the noise of the traffic in the street without, which was one of the principal thoroughfares of the city. As she handed him his tea, Mr. Mellis suddenly remembered what had been his special reason for calling on Mrs. Duncan that Friday afternoon. “By the way,” he began, “I hope I shall see you at church on Sunday evening. I know the damp weather prevents your attendance at times, but come if you possibly can.”