“Do you believe,” said the doctor, after a moment’s pause, “that it is wise or right in a girl like Dora Bannister, accustomed to fine living, good society, and an atmosphere of opulence, to allow a poor man like Ralph Haverley to fall in love with her?  And he will do it, just as sure as the world turns round.”

“Well, let him do it,” replied the old lady.  “I did not intend to give my opinion on this subject, because, as you know, I am not fond of obtruding my ideas into other people’s affairs, but I will say, now, that Dora Bannister will have to travel a long distance before she finds a better man for a husband than Ralph Haverley, or a better estate on which to spend her money than Cobhurst.  I believe that money that is made in a neighborhood like this ought to be spent here, and Thomas Bannister’s money could not be better spent than in making Cobhurst the fine estate it used to be.  I do not believe in a girl like Dora going off and marrying some city fellow, and perhaps spending the rest of her life at the watering-places and Paris.  I want her here; don’t you?”

“I certainly do, but you forget Mr. Ames.”

“I do, and I intend to forget him,” she replied, “and so does Dora.”

The doctor shook his head.  “I do not like it,” he said; “young Haverley may be all very well,—­I have a high opinion of him, already, but he is not the man for Dora.  If he had any money at all, it would be different, but he has not.  Now she would not be content to live at Cobhurst as it is, and he ought not to be content to have her do everything to make it what she would have it.”

“Doctor,” said Miss Panney, “if there is anything about all this in your medicine books, perhaps you know more than I do, and you can go on and talk; but you know there is not, and you know, too, that I was a very sensible middle-aged woman when you were toddling around in frocks and running against people.  I believe you are trying to run against somebody now.  Who is it?”

“Well,” said the doctor, “if it is anybody, it is young Haverley.”

Miss Panney smiled.  “You may think so,” she said, “but I want you to know that you are also running against me, and I say to you, confidentially, and with as much trust in you as I used to have that you would not tell who it was who spread your bread with forbidden jam, that I have planned a match between these two; and if they marry, I intend to make pecuniary matters more nearly even between them, than they are now.”

The doctor looked at her earnestly.

“Do you suppose,” said he, “that he would take money from you?”

“What I should do for him,” she answered, “could not be prevented by him or any one else.”

“But there is no reason,” urged the other.

The old lady smiled, took off her glasses, wiped them with her handkerchief, and put them on again.

“There is so little in medicine books,” she said.  “His grandfather was my cousin.”