“Mr. Halloway isn’t there at all,” cried Olly, his fine, clear-voice pitched high above the rest, “He only asked about Pheeb at the door, and went right off.”

“Well, he left this for her with his compliments, and this, and this,” called Dick, rummaging in his pockets, and tossing up an apple, and then a hickory nut, and last a good-sized and dangerously ripe tomato.  Olly caught them dexterously with a yell of delight, and was immediately rushed at by three of the nearest ladies and ordered not to make a noise, for Phebe was to be kept perfectly quiet.

“Such doings would never be permitted a moment if she had only been in Dr. Harrison’s hands,” said Mrs. Upjohn, in denunciatory tones.  “He would have forbidden her to see any one.  It is scandalous.”

“It is outrageous,” added Mrs. Hardcastle.  “Most inconsiderate.”

“Ah, I can’t get over it that it isn’t your legs, poor dear!” murmured Miss Delano, still plaintively overcome.  “And you will walk, after all?”

“Dr. Dennis is an excellent physician,” said Mrs. Dexter, somewhat defiantly.  It was impossible not to enter the lists against Mrs. Upjohn.  This last lady was immediately up in arms, and a heated discussion as to the respective skill of the two practitioners took place, everybody gradually taking sides with one or the other of the leaders, and forgetting both poor exhausted Phebe and the noise downstairs, which finally culminated in a rousing lullaby led by Bell, and lustily seconded by half a dozen others: 

“Slumber on, Phebe dear;
Do not hear us fellows sigh!”

The song, however, suddenly stopped in the midst.  Some one seemed speaking very low and softly, and neither the chorus nor the laughter nor the tumult was resumed.  Phebe drew a deep breath.  Was relief really coming at last?  Yes.  Soeur Angelique stood in the door-way.

“Will you excuse me, ladies,” she said, in that soft, irresistible voice of hers, as she laid aside bonnet and shawl in a quiet, business-like way.  “I came to relieve Miss Vernor and play nurse for a while, and I think Phebe looks as if she needed a little sleep.  If you will kindly take leave of her, I will darken the room at once.”

She stood so evidently waiting for them to go, that in a few moments they all found themselves somehow or other outside the door, with Gerald politely escorting them down-stairs, and Olly dancing joyously ahead, crying that Mr. Halloway had sent for him to the rectory.  Left mistress of the situation, Mrs. Whittridge proceeded to draw down the shades, straighten the chairs, smooth the bedclothes and rearrange the pillows, all with the noiseless, graceful movements peculiar to her.  Then she drew a low chair up to the bedside, and laid her cool hand soothingly on Phebe’s forehead.  A great peace seemed suddenly to fill the room.

“Now, my darling, you must sleep.  Between them they have quite worn you out.”