But the doctor told her, shortly, he had not come to see the place, but the children, and almost before she was aware of it, Mrs. Ship had asked him to walk into the adjoining room, where the children were lying. Sharp and gruff as his manner had been towards the mother, nothing could exceed the gentleness with which he now spoke to the children. They were moaning restlessly in a half delirious state, and did not recognize him, or they might have taken fright at seeing the "mad doctor" so near them. After leaving some general directions for their treatment with the medicine he had brought in his pocket, he told Mrs. Ship to send one of the boys to his house for some arrow-root and barley-water, which he would have prepared for them, and then, before a word of thanks could be uttered, he was gone. This was his first errand of mercy, but it was not the last. The day following, when he called at the cottage, he ventured to ask in a shy manner, as though he were half ashamed of the kindness he was showing, whether the fever was spreading in the village, and whether there were any other families that needed help and medical assistance. "O, yes, indeed it is, doctor," said Mrs. Ship, sadly; "and what 'll become of some of the poor things I don't know, for the fishing has been so bad this year that we don't know how to make ends meet as it is." In the selfish, secluded life the doctor had led, he had heard nothing of this, although living in the midst of the general distress. But it accounted in some measure for the great prevalence of the fever, and he determined to do what he could to help the poor people, not only with medical advice, but what was equally necessary, the means of obtaining suitable nourishing food. For several months the doctor had no time to indulge his gloomy melancholy. His visits, which were at first received shyly and somewhat suspiciously by the villagers, soon came to be hailed with pleasure, in spite of the sad countenance he always carried with him; for sad and unhappy he still was, as could be plainly seen, although the worst features of his melancholy had been overcome. The fever passed away at length, and with it the doctor's occupation to a great extent. But from this time, if any of the villagers were ill, or in trouble, Dr. Mansfield was the first applied to in the difficulty, and they always found in him a ready helper and consoler. CHAPTER VIII. THE DOCTOR'S STORY. MILLY had been at Dr. Mansfield's about two years, and every body began to look upon her as his daughter now. The housekeeper had long given up all hope and even desire to get rid of her, so wonderfully had the house been brightened by her presence, that the extra trouble it entailed was no longer thought of. She did not go to school, for there were no schools in this remote fishing village, and to obviate the necessity of her leaving him for this purpose, the doctor taught her himself.