tell me."

"Oh yes, sir. But my mistress, she's in London just now."

Alfred's eyes flashed. "Could I learn from Miss Dodd?"

"La, sir, she is in London along with her ma; why, 'tis for her they are
gone; to insult the great doctors."

He started. "She is not ill? Nothing serious?"

"Well, sir, we do hope not. She is pinning a bit, as young ladies will."

Alfred was anything but consoled by this off-hand account; he became
alarmed, and looked wretched. Seeming him so perturbed, Sarah, who was
blunt but good-natured, added, "But cook she says hard work would cure
our Miss of all _she_ ails. But who shall I say was asking? For my work
is a bit behind-hand."

Alfred took the hint reluctantly, and drew out his card-case, saying,
"For Mr. Edward Dodd." She gave her clean but wettish hand a hasty wipe
with her apron, and took the card. He retired; she stood on the step and
watched him out of sight, said "Oho!" and took his card to the kitchen
for preliminary inspection and discussion.

Alfred Hardie was resolute, but sensitive. He had come on the wings of
Love and Hope; he went away heavily; a housemaid's tongue had shod his
elastic feet with lead in a moment; of all misfortunes, sickness was what
he had not anticipated, for she looked immortal. Perhaps it was that fair
and treacherous disease, consumption. Well, if it was, he would love her