“I do not know that I am quite reconciled to having New York doctors coming to Massachusetts and carrying off our nurses in this summary fashion,” Dr. Hunt playfully remarked, as he shook Salome warmly by the hand. She smiled, but somewhat tremulously, for she had become strongly attached to the good man, and was sorry to say farewell to him. “If you will come to New York a month hence I promise that you will hardly recognize your nurse,” the younger physician smilingly remarked, with a tender glance at the face beside him. He would not allow her to linger over the farewells, but hurried her out to the carriage, and they were soon driving rapidly down-town. Arriving at the hotel, Salome was shown to a handsome suite of rooms on the second floor, and, a little later, a tempting dinner was served them in their private parlor. Afterward Dr. Winthrop kept his wife engaged in pleasant conversation for an hour, and then told her that she must go to her rest, so as to be fresh for her journey on the morrow. “I am going to be very, very careful of you for a while, Salome,” he said, as he led her toward one of the rooms opening out of their parlor, “and a maid will come to you presently to wait on you, for I know that you are not yet able to wait on yourself; then you will try to go to sleep at once, will you not?” “Yes.” “My room is just opposite,” he continued. “I shall leave the door open, and if you should need or wish anything during the night will you speak to me?” “I shall not need anything——” Salome began. “Promise that you will speak if you do,” he persisted, with gentle authority; or, he added, with sudden thought, “you have had a nurse for so long, would you prefer to have the maid remain with you? I will have a cot arranged for her.” “No, I shall do very well by myself, and I will speak if I need anything,” Salome promised, thinking how thoughtful he was for her every need. “Thank you; and now good-night, dear,” he returned, as he kissed her. “Good-night, Doctor True,” she responded, flushing slightly, as for the first time she addressed him thus. “Thank you again, Salome, and by and by, perhaps, you will forget the prefix,” he said, smiling, and with the thrill in his tone that she was beginning to watch for. A light tap came upon the door just then, and Dr. Winthrop retreated to the parlor. A pretty maid assisted Salome to retire, and in less than half an hour she was sleeping as peacefully and restfully as a child. She did not wake once during the night, but opened her eyes in the morning just as the clock on the mantel began to strike seven, when she suddenly became conscious that the apartment was filled with fragrance. The next moment she saw, lying upon the pillow beside her, a great handful of roses. “Oh, how perfectly lovely!” she cried in a voice of delight, a flush of pleasure mounting to her brow, and she knew that her husband must have stolen softly in with his morning offering before she was awake.