Here a happy thought struck Miriam.

“I can’t go, anyway,” she said aloud, “for the gig is broken;” and, her brother coming in at that moment, she informed him, with an air of much relief, how the matter had settled itself.

“But I don’t like matters to settle themselves in that way,” said Ralph.  “The gig should certainly be in order by this time.  I will go myself and see the man about it, and if the new shafts are not finished, I can hire a carriage for you.  There is no need of your giving up a pleasant visit for the want of means of conveyance.”

“But even if the gig were all ready for us to use, you know that you could not go until Mr. Bannister has called,” said the cruel-minded sister.

Ralph was of the opinion that there were certain features of social etiquette which ought to be ruthlessly trodden upon, but he could think of nothing suitable to say in regard to the point so frequently brought up by Miriam, and, walking somewhat moodily to the front door, he saw Dr. Tolbridge approaching in his buggy.

The good doctor had come out of his way, and on a very busy morning, to lay before the Haverleys his project concerning Mrs. Drane and her daughter.  Having but little time, he went straight to the point, and surprised Miriam and Ralph as much as if he had proposed to them to open a summer hotel.  But, without regard to the impression he had made, he boldly proceeded in the statement of his case.

“You couldn’t find pleasanter ladies than Mrs. Drane and her daughter,” he said.  “The latter is copying some manuscript for me, which she could do just as well here as at my house—­”

“Are you talking about the two ladies who were here yesterday afternoon?” interrupted Miriam.

“Here, yesterday afternoon!” cried the doctor, and now it was his turn to be surprised.

When he had heard the story of the trespass on private grounds, the doctor laughed heartily.

“Well,” said he, “Mistress Fate has been ahead of me.  The good lady is in the habit of doing that sort of thing.  And now that you know the parties in question, what have you to say?”

Miriam’s blood began to glow a little, and as she gazed out of the open door without looking at anything, her eyes grew very bright.  In her loneliness, she had been wishing that Dora Bannister would drive in at the gate, and here was a chance to have a very different sort of a girl drive in—­a girl to whom she had taken a great fancy, although she had seen her for so short a time.

“Would they want to stay long?” she asked, without turning her head.

The doctor saw his opportunity and embraced it.

“That would be your affair entirely,” he said.  “If they came for only a week, it would be to you no more than a visit from friends, and to breathe this pure country air, for even that time, would be a great pleasure and advantage to them both.”

Miriam turned her bright eyes on her brother.