"It is only a strain. You have turned your ankle badly and the muscles have been wrenched, but I don't think it is an actual sprain," said Miss Blake, consolingly. "However, if the pain is still bad to-morrow, we'll have a doctor in to look at it. Do you still have Dr. Milbank, Delia?" Nan sat bolt upright with surprise. "How funny!" she cried. "However in the world did you know Dr. Milbank was our doctor? Why, we've had him for years and years. Ever since I was born and before, too. But how could you know?" Delia hurried out of the room muttering something about the dinner, and Miss Blake bent her head over the bandage she was rolling. "He lives so near," she replied haltingly. "I've seen his sign often as I passed and--and--perhaps that is why I thought he might be your physician. He's so convenient--within call. It is hard to tell what makes one jump at conclusions sometimes." Nan sank back among her cushions not half satisfied. "Dr. Pardee lives near, too. Just as near as Dr. Milbank does," she persisted. The governess made no response, and just then Delia came staggering in under the weight of a huge brass tray which she bore in her arms. Miss Blake jumped to her feet. "We're going to have a dinner-party up here to-night, Nan," she said. "Won't it be fun?" and she set to work unfolding a strange foreign-looking stand that Nan had never seen before and upon which Delia carefully placed the tray. "Why, what a dandy little table it makes!" exclaimed Nan, admiringly. "Where did it come from?" "I brought it from London, but it was made in India," explained Miss Blake. Nan's eyes softened. "Where papa is!" she murmured softly to herself. "You have lots of nice things," she added, after a moment. "These pillows are downright daisies. I s'pose they belong to you." The governess served her with soup. "They are yours whenever you care to use them," she returned in her quiet way. "It's jolly having dinner up here," said Nan, not quite knowing how to respond to such a generous offer. "Yes, isn't it?" assented the governess. "Mrs. Newton don't use her basement for a dining-room, and neither does Mr. Turner. I wish we didn't. I think it would be perfectly fine if we could have ours up here, too." "Why couldn't you?" The girl leaned forward with a look of real interest in her face. "Do you think we might?" she asked eagerly. "I don't see why not. The books might be shifted to the other room. This might be re--well, re-arranged, and I'm sure it would make a charming dining-room." "But that ugly old glass extension back there!" protested Nan in disgust. "Who wants to look at a lot of old trunks and broken-up things when one is eating? If we could only pull it down." Miss Blake considered a moment. "Why not take all the old trunks and broken-up things out entirely and make a conservatory of it. It faces the south. Plants would grow beautifully there."