cottage in the same yard, the house where Dr. Holbrook boarded, and
where, if he ever married in Devonshire, he would most likely bring
his wife.

"Guy Remington, the very chap of all others whom I'd rather see, and,
as I live, there's Agnes, with Jessie. Who knew she was in these
parts?" was the doctor's mental exclamation, as, running his fingers
through his hair and making a feint of pulling up the corners of his
rather limp collar, he hurried out to the carriage, from which a
dashing looking lady of thirty, or thereabouts, was alighting.

"Why, Agnes, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Remington, when did you come?" he
asked, offering his hand to the lady, who, coquettishly shaking back
from her pretty, dollish face a profusion of light brown curls, gave
him the tips of her lavender kids, while she told him she had come to
Aikenside the Saturday before; and hearing, from Guy that the lady
with whom he boarded was an old friend of hers, she had driven over to
call, and brought Jessie with her. "Here, Jessie, speak to the doctor.
He was poor dear papa's friend," and a very proper sigh escaped Agnes
Remington's lips as she pushed a little curly-haired girl toward Dr.
Holbrook.

The lady of the house had spied them by this time, and came running
down the walk to meet her rather distinguished visitor, wondering, it
may be, to what she was indebted for this call from one who, since her
marriage with the supposed wealthy Dr. Remington, had rather cut her
former acquaintances. Agnes was delighted to see her, and, as Guy
declined entering the cottage just then, the two friends disappeared
within the door, while the doctor and Guy repaired to the office, the
latter sitting down in the very chair intended for Madeline Clyde.