"Now, auntie, you know you'd eat a whole cucumber on the sly, if you had the chance." "No, no, my dear; that is too bad. I confess that I do like cucumber, but not to that extent." "Well, Naomi, I hope you are ready for plenty of boating, now you have come down," said Scarlett. "We must brown you a bit; you are too fair.--Isn't she, Jack?" "Not a bit," said the doctor, who was enjoying his salmon. "A lady can't be too fair." Aunt Sophia looked at him sharply; but Jack Scales's eyes had not travelled in the direction of Naomi, and when he raised them to meet Aunt Sophia's, there was a frank ingenuous look in them that disarmed a disposition on the lady's part to set up her feathers and defend her niece. "I think young ladies ought to be fair and pretty; don't you, ma'am?" "Ye-es; in reason," said Aunt Sophia, bridling slightly. "I side with you, Jack," said their host, with a tender look at his wife. "Yes," said Prayle slowly; "one naturally expects a lady to be beautiful; but, alas! how soon does beauty fade." "Yes, if you don't take care of it," said Aunt Sophia sharply. "Unkindness is like a blight to a flower, and so is the misery of this world." "So," said Scarlett, "the best thing is never to be unkind, auntie, and have nothing to do with misery--" "If you can help it," said the doctor. "--Or the doctors," said Scarlett, laughing--"always excepting Doctor Scales." About this time, Aunt Sophia, who had been very stiff and distant, began to soften a little towards the doctor, and listened attentively, as the host seemed to be trying to draw him out. "What are you doing now, Jack?" he said, after a glance round the table to see that all was going satisfactorily and well; while Lady Scarlett sat, flushed and timid, troubled with the cares of the house, and wondering whether her husband was satisfied with the preparations that had been made. "Eating," said the doctor drily, "and to such an extent, that I am blushing inwardly for having such a dreadful appetite." "I suppose," said Prayle, "that a good appetite is a sign of good health?" "Sometimes," said the doctor. "There are morbid forms of desire for food.--What say?" "I repeated my question," said Scarlett, laughing. "What are you doing now?" "Well, I am devoting myself for the most part to the study of nervous diseases," said the doctor. "There seems to be more opening there than in any other branch of my profession, and unless a man goes in for a speciality, he has no chance." "Come, Aunt Sophia," said Scarlett, merrily; "here's your opportunity. You are always complaining of your nerves." "Of course I am," said the old lady sharply; "and no wonder." "Well, then, why not engage Doctor Scales as your private physician, before he is snatched up?"