THE DOCTOR'S MISSION
The letter which Phoebe brought was a long and cordial one, in which Dora
begged that Miriam would come and make her a visit of a few days. She
said, moreover, that her brother was intending to call on Mr. Haverley
and urge him to come to their house as frequently as he could during his
sister's visit. Dora said that she would enjoy having Miriam with her so
very, very much; and although the life at the dear old farm must be
always charming, she believed that Miriam would like a little change, and
she would do everything that she could to make the days pass pleasantly.
There could not have been a more cordial invitation, but its acceptance
was considered soberly and without enthusiasm.
During the past fortnight, there had been no intercourse between the
Bannister and Haverley families. Dora, it is true, had written, but her
letters had not been called for, and Ralph had not been to her house to
inquire about the dog. The reason for this was that, turning over the
matter in his mind for a day or two, he thought it well to mention it to
Miriam in a casual way, for he perceived that it would be very unwise
for him to go to Dora's house without informing his sister and giving her
his reasons for the visit. To his surprise, Miriam strenuously opposed
his going to the Bannister house on any pretence until Mr. Bannister had
called upon him, and showed so much earnest feeling on the subject that
he relinquished his intention. He could see for himself that it would not
be the proper thing to do; and so he waited, with more impatience on
rainy days than others, for Mr. Herbert Bannister to call upon him.
On nearly every morning of the two weeks, Dora asked her brother at
breakfast time if he were going that day to call at Cobhurst; and every
time she asked him, Herbert answered that he would go that day, if he
possibly could; but on each evening he informed her that at the hour he
had intended to start for Cobhurst a client or clients had come into the
office, or a client or clients had been in the office and had remained
there. A very busy man was Mr. Bannister.
Miriam's opinion on the subject had been varied. She frequently felt in
her lonely moments that it would be a joy to see Dora Bannister drive in
at the gate.
"If only," thought Miriam, with a sigh, "she would content herself to be
a visitor to me, just as I would be to her, and not go about contriving
things she thinks Ralph would like,--as if it were necessary that any
one should come here and do that! As for going to her house, that would
leave poor Ralph here all by himself, or else he would be there a good
deal, and--"
Here a happy thought struck Miriam.
"I can't go, anyway," she said aloud, "for the gig is broken;" and, her
brother coming in at that moment, she informed him, with an air of much
relief, how the matter had settled itself.
"But I don't like matters to settle themselves in that way," said Ralph.
"The gig should certainly be in order by this time. I will go myself and
see the man about it, and if the new shafts are not finished, I can hire
a carriage for you. There is no need of your giving up a pleasant visit
for the want of means of conveyance."
"But even if the gig were all ready for us to use, you know that you
could not go until Mr. Bannister has called," said the cruel-minded
sister.
Ralph was of the opinion that there were certain features of social
etiquette which ought to be ruthlessly trodden upon, but he could think
of nothing suitable to say in regard to the point so frequently brought
up by Miriam, and, walking somewhat moodily to the front door, he saw Dr.
Tolbridge approaching in his buggy.
The good doctor had come out of his way, and on a very busy morning, to
lay before the Haverleys his project concerning Mrs. Drane and her
daughter. Having but little time, he went straight to the point, and
surprised Miriam and Ralph as much as if he had proposed to them to open
a summer hotel. But, without regard to the impression he had made, he
boldly proceeded in the statement of his case.
"You couldn't find pleasanter ladies than Mrs. Drane and her daughter,"
he said. "The latter is copying some manuscript for me, which she could
do just as well here as at my house--"
"Are you talking about the two ladies who were here yesterday afternoon?"
interrupted Miriam.
"Here, yesterday afternoon!" cried the doctor, and now it was his turn to
be surprised.
When he had heard the story of the trespass on private grounds, the
doctor laughed heartily.
"Well," said he, "Mistress Fate has been ahead of me. The good lady is in
the habit of doing that sort of thing. And now that you know the parties
in question, what have you to say?"
Miriam's blood began to glow a little, and as she gazed out of the open
door without looking at anything, her eyes grew very bright. In her
loneliness, she had been wishing that Dora Bannister would drive in at
the gate, and here was a chance to have a very different sort of a girl
drive in--a girl to whom she had taken a great fancy, although she had
seen her for so short a time.
"Would they want to stay long?" she asked, without turning her head.
The doctor saw his opportunity and embraced it.
"That would be your affair entirely," he said. "If they came for only a
week, it would be to you no more than a visit from friends, and to
breathe this pure country air, for even that time, would be a great
pleasure and advantage to them both."
Miriam turned her bright eyes on her brother.
"What do you say, Ralph?" she asked.
The lord of Cobhurst, who had allowed his sister to tell of the visit of
the Dranes, had been thinking what a wonderful piece of good luck it
would have been, if, instead of these strangers, Dora Bannister and her
family had desired to find quarters in a pleasant country house for a few
summer weeks. He did not know her family, nor did he allow himself to
consider the point that said family was accustomed to an expensive style
of living and accommodation, entirely unlike anything to be found on a
ramshackle farm. He only thought how delightful it would be if it were
Dora who wanted to come to Cobhurst.
As Ralph looked upon the animated face of his sister, it was easy enough
to see that the case as presented by the doctor interested her very much,
and that she was awaiting his answer with an eagerness that somewhat
surprised him.
"And you, little one, would you like to have these ladies come to us?"
"Yes, I would," said Miriam, and then she stopped. There was much more
she could have said, which crowded itself into her mind so fast that she
could scarcely help saying it, but it would have been contrary to the
inborn spirit of the girl to admit that she ever felt lonely in this dear
home, or that, with a brother like Ralph, she ever craved the
companionship of a girl. But it was not necessary to say any more.
"If you want them, they shall come," said Ralph, and if it had been the
Tolbridges or Miss Panney whose society his sister desired, his assent
would have been given just as freely.
In fifteen minutes everything was settled and the doctor was driving
away. He was in good spirits over the results of his mission, for that
morning La Fleur had waylaid him as he went out and again had spoken to
him about the possibility of hiring a little house in the suburbs.
"I am sure this arrangement will suit our good cook," he thought; "but as
for its continuance, we must let time and circumstances settle that."
The doctor reached home about eleven o'clock.
"What do you think it would be better to do," he said to his wife, when
he had made his report, "to stop at Mrs. Drane's as I go out this
afternoon, or to tell Cicely about our Cobhurst scheme, and let her tell
her mother?"
"The thing to do," said Mrs. Tolbridge, closing her desk, at which she
was writing, "is for me to go and see Mrs. Drane immediately, and for you
to send Cicely home and give her a lot of work to do at Cobhurst. They
should go there this afternoon."
"Yes," said the doctor; "of course, the sooner the better; but it has
struck me perhaps it might be well to mention the matter to Miss Panney
before the Dranes actually leave Mrs. Brinkly. You know she was very
active in procuring that place for them."
Mrs. Tolbridge looked at her husband, gave a little sigh, and then
smiled.
"What is your opinion of a bird," she asked, "who, flying to the shelter
of the woods, thinks it would be a good idea to stop for a moment and
look down the gun-barrel of a sportsman, to see what is there?"
The doctor looked at her for a moment and then, catching her point, gave
her a hearty laugh for answer, and walking to his table, took up a sheet
of manuscript and carried it to the room where Miss Drane was working.
"The passage which so puzzled you," he said, "has been deciphered by Mrs.
Tolbridge and myself, and reads thus: 'The philosophy of physiological
contrasts grows.'"
"Why, yes," said Cicely, looking at the paper; "now that you tell me
what it is, it is as plain as can be. I will write it in the blank space
that I have left, and here are some more words that I would like to ask
you about."
"Not now, not now," said the doctor. "I want you to stop work and run
home. As soon as I can I will talk with you about what you have written,
and give you some more of the manuscript. But no more work for to-day.
You must hurry to your mother. You will find Mrs. Tolbridge there,
talking to her about a change of quarters."
"Another holiday!" exclaimed Cicely, in surprise.
She was a girl who worked earnestly and conscientiously with the
intention of earning every cent of the money which was paid to her, and
these successive intermissions of work seemed to her unbusiness-like. But
she made no objections, and, putting away her papers, with a sigh, for
she had a list of points about which she was ready and anxious to consult
the doctor,--she went to join the consultation, which she presumed
concerned their removal from one street in Thorbury to another. But when
she discovered the heavenly prospect which had opened before her mother
and herself, her mind bounded from all thoughts of the manuscript of the
"Diagnosis of Sympathy," as if it had been a lark mounting to the sky.