“Well,” said Ralph, “no doubt the ghosts have been a great protection to our family treasures.”

“And to your whole house,” said the old lady; “watch-dogs would be nothing to them.”

Miss Panney and Ralph ate dinner together.  The old lady would not leave until the doctor had come; and the conversation was an education to young Haverley in regard to the Butterwood family and the Thorbury neighborhood.  At the conclusion of the meal, Phoebe came into the room.

“I went upstairs to see how she was gettin’ on, sir,” she said; “an’ she was awake, an’ she made me get a pencil an’ paper out of her bag, an’ she sent you this note.”

On a half-sheet of note-paper, he read the following:  “Dear Ralph, I went upstairs and looked at the third floor and a good deal of the garret, without you being with me.  I really want to be perfectly fair, and so you must not stop altogether from looking at things until I am able to go with you.  I think good things to look at by yourself would be stables and barnyards, and the lower part of barns.  Please do not go into haylofts, nor into the chicken-yard, if there is one.  You might keep your eyes on the ground until you get to these places and then look up.  If there are horses and cows, don’t tell me anything about them when you see me.  Don’t tell me anything.  I think I shall be well to-morrow, perhaps to-night.  Miriam.”

Ralph laughed heartily, and read the note aloud.

“I should say,” said Miss Panney, “that that girl has a good deal more conscience than fever.  She ought to have slept longer, but as she is awake I will go up and take a look at her; while you can blindfold yourself, if you like, and go out to the barns.”

The doctor did not arrive until late in the afternoon, and it was nearly half an hour after he had gone up to his patient before he reported to Ralph.

“She is all right,” said he, “but I am not.”

The young man looked puzzled.

“By which I mean,” continued the other, “that Miss Panney’s concoction and the girl’s vigorous young nature have thrown off the effects of her nap in the haunted garret, and that I am an allopathist, whereas I ought to be a homeopathist.  The young lady and I have had a long conversation on that subject and others.  I find that she is a Nonconformist.”

“What?” asked Ralph.

“I use the word in its political and social, as well as its religious meaning.  That is a sister worth taking care of, sir.  Lock her up in her room, if she inclines to any more midnight wanderings.”

“And now, having finished with the young patient,” said Miss Panney, who was waiting with her bonnet and shawl on, “you can take up an old one, and I will get you to drive me home on your way back to Thorbury.”

The doctor had been very much interested in Miriam, and talked about her to Miss Panney as he drove her to the Witton house, which, by the way, was a mile and a half out of his direct road.  The old lady listened with interest, but did not wish to listen very much; she wished to talk of Ralph.