A FEW days later Harry Fairfield rode from Wyvern into the picturesque little town of Wykeford, and passing the steep, narrow bridge, pulled up near the church, at the door of Dr. Willett. Harry had something to say to the doctor, but, like a good diplomatist, that shrewd dealer in horses preferred letting the doctor talk a bit on his own account first.

He found him in slippers and dressing-gown, clipping the evergreens that grew in front of his house, the hour of his forenoon excursion not having yet arrived.

“Woodman, spare that tree,” said Harry, quoting a popular song, facetiously.

The doctor looked up.

“And how is Doctor Willett this morning?” said Harry.

“Oh! oh! Is that you?” said the doctor, straightening his back with a little effort, for he had been stooping to his task, and old backs don’t unbend in a moment.

“Quite well, thank you—so are you, I see.

“Can’t complain.”

“And how’s the old Squire?” said the doctor.

“How’s the old house?” answered Harry: “staunch and straight, and like to stand for ever. I see no change in him. And all well over at Carwell?”

“Far from it,” said the doctor.

“And who’s sick r’

“The poor young mother—very ill indeed,” said he—“nervous, low, and feverish, she has been, and yesterday, when I saw her, it was plainly fever—quite declared.”

“What sort of fever?” asked Harry.

“Well, the nerves are very much engaged,” began the doctor—

“Take care it ain’t typhus,” said Harry. “The baby ha’n’t got it, I hope?”

“No, the child’s all safe.”

“There’s typhus down at Gryce’s mill, and a child in scarlatina in the glen, I hear.”

“Is there? ha! It has been going a good deal at that side, I’m told,” said Dr. Willett. “There’s Lady Wyndale at Oulton—very good-natured she seems to be—wouldn’t she take the child and nurse it for a while? It’s a nice place, well enclosed, and lies high—nothing likely to get in there. I attended a patient there in dropsy, once, when it was let, and the Wyndales away in India.”

“Ay, she’s good-natured; she’d have the mother and child together, with a welcome, but she says she won’t take no one’s babby to nurse away from its people, and she’s right, I think, so the young chap must stand his ground, and bide the fortune o’ war, you know. What time shall you be there today?” he inquired.

“Three o’clock.”

“Very well, then, I’ll be passin’ at the mill end o’ the glen about that time, and I’ll ride up, and look in, just to hear what you have to say, and I’ll get home by Cressley Common. It will do me as well as t’other way. I turned aside a bit to reach you, and hear the news, and I must be joggin’ again. Good-bye, doctor. Is your church clock right ?” said Harry, looking up at the old tower and pulling out his watch to compare.

“‘The clock goes as it pleaseth the clerk,’ the old saw tells us, but we all go by the clock here, and it does keep right good time,” said old Dr. Willett, with his hand over his eyes, reading its golden hands and figures, as Harry was.

“Well, then, doctor, good-bye, and God bless ye,” said Harry, and away he rode, without hearing the doctor’s farewell.

At Carwell Grange, at three o’clock, there was the gloom and silence of a sick house.

The tiptoe tread of old Dulcibella, and her whisperings at the door, were scarcely audible, and now and then a weary moan was heard in the darkened room, and the wail and squall of a little child from another room not far off.

Old Mildred Tarnley had undertaken the charge of the child, while Dulcibella, with the aid of a neighbour brought in for the occasion, took charge of the sick lady.

Before three o’clock came, to the surprise of this sad household, Harry Fairfield arrived. He did not come riding; he arrived in a tax-cart. He had got through more real work that day than many men who were earning their bread by their labour.

“Give this one a feed, Tom, and how’s all here?” said he, throwing the apron off and jumping down.

“Bad enough, I’m afraid, sir.”

“Worse?”

“I don’t know, sir, till the doctor comes; but can’t be no better, for I heard Mrs. Crane say she didn’t close an eye all night.”

“I hope they’re not forgetting the child in the hurry?” said Harry.

“Mrs. Tarnley and Lilly Dogger looks after it, turn about.”

“That wouldn’t do nohow, you know,” said Harry—“and give her a good f............