Miss Leonard shot a startled look at her maid at this. She had been so full of her own aches and pains, that she had given no thought to anyone else; but now it occurred to her that Salome did look sadly worn—her face was hollow and thin. A shiver of self-repulsion ran over her, and a flush, hot and burning, mounted to her brow. She knew there had been many days that had been an utter blank to her—when, probably, she had been near death, as Harriet had said. What if she had died! These thoughts led to others, and much of her past life flitted before her, quickening her conscience and arousing remorse, and in her weakened state she fell to weeping nervously. Salome returned at this point and found her in an almost hysterical condition. This of course would not do, and without even inquiring the cause of her tears, she set about diverting her mind into a more pleasant channel. But from that day both Salome and Harriet began to observe a change in her. It was very slight at first and marked only by little things—the sudden breaking off in the middle of a harsh sentence, supplementing her orders now and then with the courteous words “if you please,” insisting that both the nurse and maid should alternate in having a little rest every afternoon, instead of demanding increasing attendance all day long. Toward the latter, too, she was less crabbed and arbitrary, and the woman began to notice and comment upon it to Salome. “I hope she won’t get too good,” she dryly remarked one day, when her mistress had been more kind than usual. “I ain’t used to it, you know; I rather think, on the whole, it gives a spice to life, and keeps my spirits up, to have a little tiff with her now and then.” Salome had a hearty laugh over this characteristic remark, but thought she enjoyed Miss Leonard far more without the “tiffs.” She surprised them both one day by sending a message to Dr. Minot, requesting him to call. She had never exchanged a word with Salome regarding his attendance upon her, although the young nurse had expected, after Harriet’s revelation, to be called to account for it; but she felt she had done right, and so had no anxiety over the matter. Dr. Minot came, as desired, and Miss Leonard received him graciously, which, considering her hatred of the sex, greatly surprised her attendants. She had a long conference with him, during which the physician expressed his unbounded admiration for the manner in which Salome had attended her during her protracted illness. He told her frankly that she must have died, but for the excellent nursing she had received, although he did not undervalue his own services. Miss Leonard did not express herself regarding Salome’s merits, but she curtly informed her visitor that she “never had any faith in doctors, though she supposed there were times when they were useful,” and concluded by asking the amount of his bill. Dr. Minot, with a shrewd twinkle in his eyes, named a very moderate sum.