Undoubtedly Esther slept better that night for the thought of the new doctor. It cannot be said that the doctor slept better because of her. In fact he lay awake thinking of her. He did not want to think of her; he wanted to go to sleep. Twice only had he seen her. Once upon the occasion of the red pump and once when casually passing her on the main street. There was no reason why her white-rose face with its strange blue eyes and its smile-curved lips should float about in the darkness of Mrs. Sykes’ best room. Yet there it was. It was the eyes, perhaps. The doctor admitted that they were peculiar eyes, startlingly blue. Dark blue in the shade of the lashes, flashing out light blue fire when the lashes lifted. But Mrs. Sykes’ boarder did not want to think about eyes. He wanted to go to sleep. He did not want to think about hair either. Although Miss Coombe had very nice hair cloudy hair, with little ways of growing about the temple and at the curve of the neck which a blind man could not help noticing. In the peaceful shadows of the room it seemed a still softer shadow framing the vivid girlish face.

Still, on the whole, sleep would have been better company and when at last he did drop off he did not relish being wakened by the voice of Ann at his door.

“Doc-ter, doc-ter! Are you awake? Can I come in?”

“I am not awake. Go away.”

Ann’s giggle came clearly through the keyhole.

“You’ve got a visitor,” she whispered piercingly through the same medium. “A man. A well man, not a sick one. He came on the train. He came on the milk train ”

“You may come in, Ann.” The doctor slipped on his dressing gown with a resigned sigh. “What man and why milk?”

“I don’t know. Aunt Sykes kept him on the veranda till she was sure he wasn’t an agent. Now he’s in the parlour. Aunt hopes you’ll hurry, for you never can tell. He may be different from what he looks.”

“What does he look?”

Ann’s small hands made an expressive gesture which seemed to envisage something long and lean.

“Queer like that. He’s not old, but he’s bald. His eyes screw into you. His nose,” another formative gesture, “is like that. A nawful big nose. He didn’t tell his name.”

“If he looks like that, perhaps he hasn’t any name. Perhaps he is a button-moulder. In fact I’m almost certain he is other name Willits. Occupation, professor.”

“But if he is a button-maker, he can’t be a professor,” said Ann shrewdly.

“Oh, yes he can. Button-moulding is what he professes. His line is a specialty in spoiled buttons. He makes them over.”

“Second-hand?”

“Better than new.”

Ann fidgeted idly with the doctor’s cuff-links and then with a flash of her odd childish comprehension, “You love him a lot, don’t you?” she said jealously.

The doctor adjusted a collar button.

“England expects that every man shall deny the charge of loving another,” he said, “but between you and me, I do rather like old Willits. You see I was rather a worn-out button once and he made me over. Where did you say he was?”

“In the parlour there’s Aunt! She said I wasn’t to stay. I’ll get it.”

Indeed the voice of Mrs. Sykes could be heard on the stairs.

“Ann! Where’s that child? Doctor, you’d think that child had never been taught no manners. You’ll have to take a firm stand with Ann, Doctor. Land Sakes, I don’t want to make her out worse’n she is, but you might as well know that your life won’t be worth living if you don’t set on Ann.”

“All right, Mrs. Sykes. Painful as it may be, I shall do it. Are you sure it’s safe to leave a stranger in the parlour?”

Mrs. Sykes looked worried. “I hope to goodness it’s all right, Doctor. He’s been in the parlour half an hour. I don’t think he’s an agent, hasn’t got a case or a book anywhere. But agents are getting cuter every day. Naturally I didn’t like to go so far as to ask his name. And I’m not asking it now. Curiosity was never a fault of mine though I do say it. Still a woman does like to know who’s setting in her front parlour.”

“And you shall,” declared Callandar kindly. “Just hang on a few moments longer, dear Mrs. Sykes, and your non-existent but very justifiable curiosity shall be satisfied.”

The parlour at Mrs. Sykes opened to the right of the narrow hall. Its two windows, distinguished by eternally half-drawn blinds of yellow, looked out upon the veranda, permitting a decorous gloom to envelop the sacred precincts. Mrs. Sykes was too careful a housekeeper to take risks with her carpet and too proud of her possessions to care to hide their glories altogether; hence the blinds were never wholly drawn and never raised more than half way. In the yellow gloom, one might feast one’s eyes at leisure upon the centre table, draped in red damask, mystic, wonderful, and on its wealth of mathematically arranged books, the Bible, the “Indian Mutiny” and “Water Babies” in blue and gold. This last had been a gift to Ann and was considered by Mrs. Sykes to be the height of foolishness. Still, a book is a book, especially when bound in blue and gold.

Upon the gaily papered walls hung a framed silver name-plate and two pictures. One a gorgeously coloured print of the lamented Queen Victoria in a deep gold frame, and the other a representation of an entrancing allegorical theme entitled “The Two Paths,” illustrating the ascent of the saint into heaven and the descent of the sinner into hell. At the top of this picture was the legend, “Which will you choose?” implying a possible but regrettable lack of taste on the part of the chooser.

Into this abode of the arts and muses came Callandar, alert and smiling. It was hardly his fault that he stumbled over the visitor who, whether in awe or fear of these unveiled splendours, had retreated as far as possible toward the door.

“Don’t mind me!” said the visitor meekly.

“Willits! by Jove, I thought it would be you! Say, would you mind not sitting on that chair? It’s just glued!”

The visitor arose with conspicuous alacrity. He was a tall man with a domelike head, piercing eyes and formidable nose. Ann’s description had been terribly accurate. He observed the tail of his coat carefully and finding no damage, seemed relieved.

“Sit here,” said Callandar affably. “And don’t expect me to make you welcome, because you aren’t. What misfortunate chance has brought you to Coombe?”

“Neither fortune nor chance had anything at all to do with it,” declared the visitor. “I followed your luggage. I wanted to see you.”

“Well, take a good look.”

“I think you can guess why.”

“Yes,” with a sigh. “I was always a good guesser. And, frankly, Willits, I wish you hadn’t.”

“I do not doubt it. But, first, is there any other place where we can talk?”

“Don’t you like this?” innocently.

The Button-Moulder’s look of surprised anguish was sufficient answer. Callandar laughed.

“You always were a bit narrow in your views, Willits. How often have I impressed upon you that beauty depends upon understanding? I don’t suppose you have even tried to understand this room? No? Will it help any if I tell you that Mrs. Sykes went without a spring bonnet that she might purchase the deep gold frame which enshrines Victoria the Good, or if I explain that Joseph Sykes, deceased, whose name you see yonder upon that engraved plate, was the most worthless rogue unhung. Yet the silver which displays ”

“Not in the least,” interrupted the other hastily. “The place is a nightmare. Nothing can excuse it! And you how you stand it I cannot see.”

“My dear man, I don’t stand it. I am not allowed to. It’s only upon special occasions that any one is allowed to stand this room. You are a special occasion. But as you seem so unappreciative we can adjourn to my office if you wish.”

“You have an office?”

“Certainly. A doctor has to have an office. This way.”

Callandar strode across the room and opened a door in the opposite wall. It led into another room, smaller, with no veranda in front of it, yet with a window looking toward the road and two side windows through which the after flush of sunrise streamed. Its door opened upon a small stone stoop set in the grass of the front lawn. The furniture of the room was plain, not to say severe. Cool matting covered the painted floor, hemstitched curtains of linen scrim hung at the windows. There was a businesslike desk, a couch, a reclining chair, a stool by the door; another chair, straight and uncompromising, behind the desk. That was all.

Willits looked around him in a kind of dazed surprise. “Office!” he kept murmuring. “Office!”

“All rather plain, you see,” said Callandar regretfully. “But for a beginner with his way to make, not so bad. My patients, three up to date, quite understand and conceal their commiseration with perfect good breeding. Also, the room has natural advantages, it is in the nature of an annex, you see, with a door of its own. Quite cut off from the rest of the house save-for the door by which we entered, the parlour door, which Mrs. Sykes informs me I may lock if I choose although she feels sure that I know her too well to imagine any undue liberties being taken!”

The Button-Moulder with a gesture of despair made as if to sit down upon the nearest chair, but was prevented with kindly firmness by his host.

“Not that chair, please. It may not be quite dry. I glued ”

The voice of the visitor suddenly returned. It was a very dry voice; threadlike, but determined.

“Then if you will kindly find me a chair which you have not glued I shall sit down and dispose of a few burning thoughts. Callandar, as soon as you have finished playing the fool ”

“Consider it finished, old man.”

“Then what does this, all this” with a sweeping hand wave “mean? You cannot seriously intend to stay here?”

“Why not?”

“Your question is absurd.”

“No, it isn’t. Let it sink in. Why should I not stay here? Examine the facts. I am ordered change, rest, interest, good air a year at least must elapse before I take up my life again. I must spend that year somewhere. Why not here? It is healthy, high, piney, quiet. I had become utterly tired of my tramping tour. All the good I can get from it I have got. Chance, or whatever you like to call it, leads me to this place. A place which needs a doctor and which this particular doctor needs. There is nothing absurd about it.”

The tall man observed his friend in interested silence. Apparently he required time to adjust his mind to the fact that Callandar was in earnest. The badinage he brushed aside.

“Then you really intend but how about this office? If it is not a torn-fool office, where does the necessary rest come in?”

“Rest doesn’t mean idleness. I should die of loafing. As a matter of fact since coming here I have rested as I have not rested for a year. Look at me! Can’t you see it? Or is the renovation not yet visible to the naked eye? Great Scott! I don’t need to vegetate in order to rest, do I?”

“No.” Another pause ensued during which the gimlet eyes of the professor were busy. Then he seemed suddenly to leap to the heart of the matter.

“And Lorna?” He asked crisply.

It was the other’s turn to be silent. He flushed, looked embarrassed, and drummed with his fingers upon the table.

“Of course I have no right to ask,” added Willits primly.

“Yes, you have, old man. Every right. But I knew you had come to ask that question and I didn’t like it. The answer is not a flattering one to me. Nor is it what you expected. To be brief, Lorna won’t have me. Refused me flat!”

Blank surprise portrayed itself upon the professor’s face.

“The devil she did!”

“Confess now!” said Callandar, smiling. “You thought I was the one to blame? There was retributive justice in your eye, don’t deny it!”

“But, I don’t understand! I thought I was sure ”

“I know. But she doesn’t! Not in that way. As a sister ”

“That’s enough! I Accept my apology. I feel very sorry, Henry.”

Again that look of embarrassment and guilt upon the doctor’s face.

“No. Don’t feel sorry! See here, let’s be frank about the whole thing. It was a mistake, from the very beginning, a mistake. Miss Sinnet, Lorna, is a girl in a thousand. But I did not care for her as a man should care for the woman he makes his wife. Nor did she care for me wait, I’m not denying that there was a chance. We were very congenial. She might have cared if if I had cared more greatly.”

“Henry Callandar! Are you a cad?”

“No. Merely a man speaking the exact truth. I thought I might risk it, with you. Lorna Sinnet is not a woman to give her love and take a half-love in return. She was more clear-sighted than you or I. We should both have been very miserable.”

Elliott Willits sighed. He was a very sensible man. He prided himself upon being devoid of sentiment, but even the most sensible of men, entirely devoid of sentiment, do not like to see their well laid plans go wrong.

“Well,” he said, “I was mistaken. Let us say no more about it.”

Callandar’s eyes softened, melted into misty grey. He laid his arm affectionately over the other’s thin shoulders. “Only this,” he said. “That no man ever had a better friend! I know you, old Button-Moulder. I know your ambition to make of me a ’shining button on the vest of the world!’ You thought that Lorna might help. But I failed you there. I’m sorry. That was really the bitterness of the whole thing –­to fail you!”

“You owe me nothing,” gruffly.

“Only my life my sanity.”

“I shall doubt the latter if you stay here.”

“No, you will see it triumphantly vindicated. I tell you I am better already. Look at my hand! Do you remember how it shook the last time I held it out for you. A few more months of this and it will be steady as a rock. Ah! it’s good to be feeling fit again! And it isn’t only a physical improvement.” His smile faded and rising he began to pace the room. “I doubt if even you fully understand the mental depression that was dragging me down. No wonder Lorna would have none of me! Strange, that I cannot understand my own case as I understand the cases of others. Do what I would, I could not heal myself, the soul of the matter persistently escaped me. I was beginning to be as much the victim of an obsession as any of the poor creatures whom I tried to cure.”

“You never told me of that.”

“No, I was afraid to speak of it. It would have made it seem more real. But I can tell you now, if you are sure you will not be bored.”

“I shall not be bored,” said Willits quietly.