“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re thinking of, marm, to treat that angel so,” she cried hotly. “Angel?” sneered the angry woman; “there are no angels in the world. I’ve lived in it for more than fifty years, and I never met one yet.” “Well, you’ve got one in this very house,” retorted Harriet: “though I suppose you wouldn’t acknowledge it if the Virgin Mary herself should come down to serve you. But I’ll tell you one thing, if I lose my place for it, you’d have been under the sod long before this, if it hadn’t been for Miss Howland.” “Pooh! Mind your own business, Harriet; I haven’t been as sick as all that,” scornfully returned Miss Leonard, who had never realized her danger. “But you have, marm,” solemnly replied the girl; “seven days and seven nights we hung over you, and thought every one would be your last. The doctor said you couldn’t li——” “Doctor?” screamed Miss Leonard wrathfully. “What doctor?” Poor Harriet looked crest-fallen enough at this unlucky slip of the tongue; but the secret was out now, and she thought she might as well make a clean breast of everything, so she confessed the whole story to her mistress. Miss Leonard’s brow was black with anger as she listened; she had been hoodwinked and outwitted. While she had been lying unconscious and helpless in their care these two women had admitted, in direct opposition to her commands, a despised physician, and given her into his care to be experimented upon. True, the experiment had proved successful, but that she did not take into consideration at that moment. “You shall pay for this, Harriet, when I get able to give you your just deserts,” she said fiercely, when the story was told. “I can’t help it, marm,” the woman returned, with an independent toss of her head, and feeling relieved now that the secret was out; “your life was worth too much to be sacrificed to a mere whim. Perhaps you would rather we had let you die; come, now—would you?” “But you disobeyed my strict orders,” began her mistress evasively. “Yes, marm, and it was lucky for you we did,” Harriet said, gaining confidence in her defence; “but leaving yourself out of the question, can’t you have a little feeling for that poor young thing? What if she had taken the responsibility of treating you, as you ordered her, and you had died? ’Twouldn’t be very comfortable for her to think of all her life.” “Humph! Who’s to pay the bills, I’d like to know,” snapped Miss Leonard, steering clear of all answers, as before. “Miss Howland spoke of that, and said she would work to pay them herself, rather than run the risk of letting you die. I tell you, marm, there ain’t many people like her in the world. Can’t you see for yourself, how much flesh that patient girl has worn off for you? Look at her hollow cheeks, her sunken eyes, and thin hands; she hadn’t much to lose when she came here, goodness knows, but she has less now, and I don’t know as she had any special reason to work herself to death for you, either.”