University of Virginia Library

I DID not see Dora after all, and I had thought
so much about it, feeling, I am afraid, more
than willing that Robin should be sick, and so
give me an excuse for going to Morrisville. Since receiving
that little note from Dora, I have frequently
dared to build castles of what might some day be, for
something in that message led me to hope that I am not
indifferent to her. The very fact that she answered my
informal letter asking the loan of a book would prove it
so, so I sit and think and wonder what the future has in
store for me, until my patients are in danger of being neglected.

“Poor Robin, I fear he is not long for this world, and
when I remember how perfectly helpless he is, and must
always remain, I say to myself:

“`It is well that the child should follow the mother,
if indeed, as Dora told him, she is in heaven sure.'

“Darling Dora, I am glad you told him so. You have
no reason to think otherwise. Does Dora know how

much I once loved Anna? I fancy not, and yet there
are those in Morrisville who remember the sad story,
but she is not thrown much in their society. The
Randalls and Verners and Strykers form a circle into
which outsiders are not often admitted. I liked that
Mrs. Randall, and so did mother. How familiar the old
place looked to me, and how natural it seemed that I
should be there; and Dora too. Will she ever be the
mistress of my home? If so, that home I know will
not be West Lawn, but there is still a cherished hope of
one day redeeming that old homestead of which she talks
so much. Then, Dora, brown-eyed, brown-haired Dora,
your little feet shall dance again upon the greensward and
your merry laugh awaken the echoes of the olden time.
Dear Dora, I trust she is not very sick, and I wish I
could have seen her.

“Judge Verner,—by what chance came I in his presence,
and that of his regal daughter Bell? I suspected
then I was the victim of a joke, perpetrated by that
saucy-looking, black-eyed elf, whom they called Jessie,
and now I am sure of it, for here this morning comes a
letter from the judge, worthy, I think, to be preserved
as a curiosity.

“`Mr. West,' he writes, with the Mr. heavily underscored,
as if to make it doubly evident that he ignored
the title of Dr. in my case: `Enclosed find five dollars
for professional services rendered to self July 22d. If

I hadn't had such a confounded stomach-ache I suppose
I should have marched you out-doors in double-quick
time, as that is what I've threatened to do with all kinds
of quacks; but I'm glad I didn't, as my remembrance of
you is that you are a gentleman, even if you have a soft
spot in the brain. Jessie,—that's my youngest,—insists
that your spoon victuals did me good, and prides herself
on having cajoled you into the house,—but she needn't
tell me; I know better. Bell, too,—that's my eldest,—
has partially gone over to the enemy, but I'll stick to my
principles. It's all a piece of tomfoolery, though if you'll
never breathe a word of it to Bell, nor Jessie, there is
something about those paltry little pills in that phial that
will stop the tallest kind of a gripe! I'd like to know
you better, young man, and so would my daughters.
Come here in the autumn, when the shooting is fine.
We have splendid woods for hunting, if you enjoy it.