The speaker was Doctor Brown. He had come swiftly upon Charles Taylor, turning from the corner around the maple trees; that he had been to see the sick was certain, but Charles had not heard of any one being sick in that direction. “Neither had I,” said the doctor, in answer to the remark, “until I was sent for an hour ago in haste.” A thought crossed Charlie’s mind, “Not a case of fever, I hope.” “No; I think that’s leaving us. There’s been an accident to the parson’s wife--at least what might have been an accident, I should rather say,” added the doctor, correcting himself; “the injury is so slight as not to be worth the name of one.” “What has happened?” asked Charles Taylor. “She managed to set her sleeve on fire. A muslin, falling over the merino sleeve of her gown, in standing near a candle, the flame caught it; but just look at her presence of mind! Instead of wasting time running through the house from top to bottom, as most of them would have done, she instantly threw herself down on the rug and rolled herself into it. She’s the kind of a woman to go through life.” “Is she much burnt?” “No; many a child gets more burnt a dozen times in its first dozen years. The arm, between the elbow and wrist, is a little scorched; it’s nothing; they need not have sent for me; a drop of cold water applied will take out all the fire. Your sister Martha was much more frightened than she was.” “I’m really glad it’s no worse,” said Charles Taylor. “I feared the fever might have broken out again.” “That is taking its departure, I think, and the sooner it’s gone the better; it has been capricious as a coquette’s smiles; it is strange that in many houses it should have attacked only one inmate and spared the rest.” “What do you think, now, of Mary Ann Brewster?” The doctor shook his head, and his voice grew insensibly low. “In my opinion, she is sinking fast. I found her worse this afternoon, weaker than she has been at all; her mother thought that if she could get her to Newtown she might improve; but the removal would kill her; she would die on the road. It will be a terrible blow to her mother if it does come; and, though it may be harsh to say it, a retort upon her selfishness. Did you hear that she used to make Janey head nurse while the fever was upon her?” “No,” exclaimed Charles Taylor. “They did, though; Mrs. Brewster let it out to-day unintentionally. Dear girl! if she had caught it, I should never have forgiven her mother, whatever you may have done. I have a few more visits to make now before bedtime. Good-night!”