“The one—?” asked the startled doctor.

“Yes, that very one,” she answered quickly; “but he does not know it, and now we will drop the subject.  I will try to get to Cobhurst to-morrow before Dora leaves, and I will see if I cannot help matters along a little.”

The doctor laughed.  “I was going to ask you to interfere with matters.”

“Well, don’t,” she said.  “And now tell me about your cook.  Is she as good as ever?”

“As good?” said the doctor.  “She is better.  The more she learns about our tastes, the more perfectly she gratifies them.  Mrs. Tolbridge and I look upon her as a household blessing, for she gives us three perfect meals a day, and would give us more if we wanted them; the butcher reverences her, for she knows more about meat and how to cut it than he does.  Our man and our maid either tremble at her nod or regard her with the deepest affection, for I am told that they spend a great deal of their time helping her, when they should be attending to their own duties.  She has, in fact, become so necessary to our domestic felicity, and I may say, to our health, that I do not know what will become of us if we lose her.”

“Is there any chance of that?” eagerly asked the old lady.

“I fear there is,” was the answer.

Miss Panney sprang to her feet, her eyes flashing.

“Now look here, Dr. Tolbridge,” she said, “don’t tell me that that woman is going to leave you because she wants higher wages and you will not pay them.  I beg you to remember that I got you that woman.  I saw she was what you needed, and I worked matters so that she came to you.  She has proved to be everything that I expected.  You are looking better now than I have seen you look for five years.  You have been eating food that you like, and food that agrees with you, and a chance to do that comes to very few people in your circumstances.  There is no way in which you could spend your money better than—­”

The doctor raised his hand deprecatingly.

“There is no question of money,” he said.  “She has not asked for higher wages, and if she had, I should pay anything in reason.  The trouble is more serious.  You may remember that when she first came to this country, she lived with the Dranes, and she left them because they could no longer afford to employ her.  She has the greatest regard for that family, and has lately heard that they are becoming poorer and poorer.  There are only two of them,—­mother and daughter,—­and on account of some sort of unwise investment they are getting into a pretty bad way.  I used to know Captain Drane, and was slightly acquainted with his family.  I heard of their misfortune through a friend in Pennsylvania, and as I knew that La Fleur took such an interest in the family, I mentioned it to her.  The result was disastrous; she has been in a doleful mood ever since, and yesterday assured Mrs. Tolbridge that if it should prove that Mrs. Drane