“Don’t speak of it at the house:  my father would be troubled.  And hurry back:  I do not want to be alone.”

“What an inconsistent prescription she is!” thought Maurice as he went.  “However, fright will make the most obstinate woman docile.”

If it was fright, it certainly worked marvels.  When he returned Fay obediently followed every direction given by him, even taking his arm for support as they walked to the hotel.  Having seen his patient to the door of her room, professional delicacy prompted the doctor to withdraw.  As he bade her good-morning she became embarrassed, hesitated a moment, then abruptly throwing open the door which gave entrance to a parlor, she said with a suspicious quaver in her voice, “Won’t you come in?  I must thank you, and papa must thank you.”

“Not at all necessary,” he replied lightly.  “I will see you again if you permit me, but I must go now.”

“You are offended because I—­No matter:  it is best.  Go, then;” and she held out her hand, which he took, while her face became grave, almost sad; or was it but the young man’s fancy?

“She is a warm-hearted, impulsive, spoilt child,” was Maurice’s final dictum as he left.  “I must go now to Clare, to be warned or scolded or lectured about her; but first a cigar.  Query:  when a man forgets his morning cigar, what does it portend?  There was a special providence in the rain washing that hole.  A pity for the poor girl, but it gave me just the excuse I needed.”

Maurice had been smoking for about an hour on the piazza when he was accosted by a servant, who had the air of really trying to find some one for whom he had been sent.

“Are you a doctor?” asked the man.

Grey nodded.

“They are waiting for you:  come quick, please.”

“I rather think you are mistaken:  suppose you look up some one else?”

“Have been all about, sir.  I can’t get any one else.  You’ll do, I think:  won’t you come?  The governor is deuced easy with his money.”

“That accounts for your eagerness to serve him.  Well, I suppose I must go and see about it.”

He was taken, as he had anticipated, to Miss Lafitte’s room.  A gentleman with very white hair and an anxious face was alone in the parlor, who, introducing himself as Mr. Lafitte, repeated the servant’s question:  “Are you a physician?”

“As much as a diploma and three years’ practice can make me,” answered the young man.

“My daughter has had a severe fall,” he explained:  “she is suffering.  I hope you can relieve her.”

“Excuse me when I tell you that I am here for absolute rest.  Is it possible to get another doctor?”

“No, we have tried.  I beg that you will undertake the case without further delay.”

Maurice felt the position awkward.  “On one condition,” he answered finally, at the same time giving his card:  “that is, if the lady is willing.”