Never before had Vera seen Mrs. Porter’s composure shaken, and as she looked at her grief-stricken face a compassion and understanding of the woman she had deemed all-worldly moved her. Impulsively she extended her hands in ready sympathy, and Mrs. Porter clasped them eagerly. “Don’t borrow trouble, dear Mrs. Porter,” she entreated. “Dr. Washburn stands very high in the profession--” “But he can’t come.” Mrs. Porter dashed tears from her eyes. “He has just sent word that he is ill with pleurisy, and recommends that I send for Dr. Beverly Thorne.” “What?” Vera studied her intently. “Will you follow Dr. Washburn’s advice?” “And send for Beverly Thorne?” with bitter emphasis. “I wouldn’t have that man attend a sick cat! Oh, why didn’t I close this house and go back to the city?” Vera was discreetly silent. Mrs. Porter had carried her point of wintering in the country against the, at first, outspoken indignation of Millicent and the veiled opposition of Hugh Wyndham; but that was hardly the moment to remind Mrs. Porter that by having her own way she had herself to thank for their isolated position. Mrs. Porter continued her remarks, heedless of Vera’s silence. “And poor Millicent is cut off from young companionship just at the moment when she needs her friends. By the way”--bending eagerly forward--“can’t your sister come and stay with Millicent?” “Dorothy--stay here?” Vera half rose, her eyes dilating. “Why not?” demanded Mrs. Porter. “The two girls were chums at boarding-school, even if they haven’t seen much of each other for several years, and I imagine you know Hugh’s opinion of Dorothy--” Vera nodded dumbly. “I’ve always been very fond of Dorothy, and I can’t understand, Vera, why you permitted her to go into newspaper work,” in reproachful accents. “Dorothy is old enough now to judge for herself,” said Vera wearily. “She selected newspaper work for various reasons, and I must say,” with quick pride, “Dorothy has done well in that profession.” “I know she has, and I admire her for it.” Mrs. Porter spoke warmly, and Vera colored with pleasure. “Do put your clever wits to work, Vera, and arrange it so that Dorothy can get leave from her office and spend a week here at the least. Her cheerful society will do Millicent good. I wish, my dear, that I could see more of you,” and Mrs. Porter impulsively kissed her. “But you sleep all day and work all night, and I sleep all night.” She rose abruptly. “I must go back to Millicent; the child is grieving her heart out.” She made a hesitating step toward the door leading into Vera’s bedroom. “Did you mention in your testimony at the inquest this afternoon that you saw Millicent down in the library when you went to telephone to the coroner?” “No.” Vera caught the look of relief which lighted Mrs. Porter’s eyes for a brief instant, then the older woman continued on her way to the door, but she stopped again on its threshold.