“Doctor!” exclaimed Mrs. Tolbridge, “whatever happens, I hope we are not going to be the slaves of a cook.”

The doctor laughed.

“Whatever happens,” he said, “we are always that.  All we can do is to try and be the slaves of a good one.”

“I am not altogether sure that that is the right way to look at it,” said Mrs. Tolbridge; and then she went on with her sewing, not caring to expatiate on the subject.  Her husband appreciated only the advantages of La Fleur, but she knew something of her disadvantages.  The work on which she was engaged at that moment would have been done by the maid, had not that young woman’s services been so frequently required of late by the autocrat of the kitchen.

The doctor sat silent for a few minutes.  He had a kindly feeling for Mrs. Drane, and was willing to do all he could for her, but his thoughts were now principally occupied with plans for the continuance of good living in his own home.

“I suppose it would not be practicable,” he said presently, “to invite them to stay with us during the heated term.”

Mrs. Tolbridge dropped her work into her lap.

“That is not to be thought of for a moment,” she said.  “We have no room for them, unless we give up having any more friends this summer; and besides that, you would see La Fleur, with the other servants at her heels, devoting herself to the gratification of every want and notion of Mrs. Drane, and thinking no more of me than if I were a chair in a corner.”

“We shall not have that,” said the doctor, rising, and placing his hand on his wife’s head.  “You may be sure we shall not have that.  And now I will go and get a bit of my handwriting, and see if you can help me decipher it.”

He left the room, but in an instant returned.

“A happy thought has just struck me!” he exclaimed.  “I wonder if those young Haverley people would take Mrs. Drane into their house for the rest of the summer?  It would be an excellent thing for them, for their household needs the presence of an elderly person, and I am sure that no one could be quieter, or more pleasant, and less troublesome, than Mrs. Drane would be.  What do you think of that idea?”

Mrs. Tolbridge looked up approvingly.

“It is not a bad one,” she said; “but what would the daughter do?  She could not come into town every day to do your work.  It is too long a walk for her, and she could not afford a conveyance.”

“No,” said the doctor, “of course she could not go back and forwards every day, but it would not be necessary.  She could take the work out there and do it as well as here, and she could come in now and then, when a chance offered, and ask me about the hard words, for which she could leave blanks.  Or, if I happen to be in the neighborhood, I could stop in there and see how she was getting on.  I would much rather arrange the business in that way, than have her pop into my office at any moment to ask me about my illegible words.”