Araminta’s pale cheeks flushed.  She looked pleadingly at Aunt Hitty, who had always valiantly defended her from the encroachments of boys and men.

“You come downstairs with me, Ralph Dexter,” commanded Aunt Hitty.  “I’ve got some talking to do to you.  Evelina, you set here with Araminta till I get back.”

Miss Evelina drew a damp, freshly scrubbed chair to the bedside.  “I fell off the step-ladder, didn’t I?” asked Araminta, vaguely.

“Yes, dear.”  Miss Evelina’s voice was very low and sweet.  “You fell, but you’re all right now.  You’re going to stay here until you get well.  Aunt Hitty and I are going to take care of you.”

In the cobwebbed parlour, meanwhile, Doctor Ralph was in the hands of the attorney for the prosecution, who questioned him ceaselessly.

“What’s wrong with Minty?”

“Broken ankle.”

“How did it happen to get broke?” demanded Miss Hitty, with harshness.  “I never knew an ankle to get broke by falling off a ladder.”

“Any ankle will break,” temporised Dr. Ralph, “if it is hurt at the right point.”

“I wish I could have had your father.”

“Father wasn’t there,” returned Ralph, secretly amused.  “You had to take me.”

Miss Hitty’s face softened.  There were other reasons why she could not have had Ralph’s father.

“When can Minty go home?”

“Minty can’t go home until she’s well.  She’s got to stay right here.”

“If she’d fell in the yard,” asked Miss Hitty, peering keenly at him over her spectacles, “would she have had to stay in the yard till she got well?”

The merest suspicion of a dimple crept into the corner of Doctor Ralph’s mouth.  His eyes danced, but otherwise his face was very grave.  “She would,” he said, in his best professional manner.  “A shed would have had to be built over her.”  He fancied that Miss Hitty’s constant presence might prove disastrous to a nervous patient.  He liked the quiet, veiled woman, who obeyed his orders without question.

“How much,” demanded Miss Mehitable, “is it going to cost?”

“I don’t know,” answered Ralph, honestly.  “I’ll have to come every day for a long time—­perhaps twice a day,” he added, remembering the curve of Araminta’s cheek and her long, dark lashes.

Miss Hitty made an indescribable sound.  Pain, fear, disbelief, and contempt were all mingled in it.

“Don’t worry,” said Ralph, kindly.  “You know doctoring sometimes comes by wholesale.”

Miss Hitty’s relief was instantaneous and evident.  “There’s regular prices, I suppose,” she said.  “Broken toe, broken ankle, broken leg—­each one so much.  Is that it?”

Doctor Ralph was seized with a violent fit of coughing.

“How much is ankles?” demanded his inquisitor.

“I’ll leave that all to you, Miss Hitty,” said Ralph, when he recovered his composure.  “You can pay me whatever you think is right.”