“I said, ‘father was in the barn, and I could fetch him,’ which I immediately did.

“He was a dark, unpleasant-looking man, and had a masterful way with him, even to father, that I disliked; but after a short, business-like talk, apparently satisfactory to both, he went away without entering the house.  Father put his hands in his pockets and watched him out of sight; then, looking at me, he said, ‘Put the spare rooms in order, Phoebe.’

“‘They are in order, father; but is that man to occupy them?’

“’Yes, he and his patient, a young gentleman of fine family, who is in bad health.’

“‘Do you know the young gentleman, father?’

“‘I know it is young Alfred Compton—­that is enough for me.’

“‘And the dark man who has just left?  I don’t like his looks, father.’

“’Nobody wants thee to like his looks.  He is Mr. Alfred’s physician—­a Dr. Orman, of Boston.  Neither of them are any of thy business, so ask no more questions;’ and with that he went back to the barn.

“Mother was not at all astonished.  She said there had been letters on the subject already, and that she had been rather expecting the company.  ‘But,’ she added, ’they will pay well, and as Melissa is to be married at Christmas, ready money will be very needful.’

“About dark a carriage arrived.  It contained two gentlemen and several large trunks.  I had been watching for it behind the lilac trees and I saw that our afternoon visitor was now accompanied by a slight, very fair-man, dressed with extreme care in the very highest fashion.  I saw also that he was handsome, and I was quite sure he must be rich, or no doctor would wait upon him so subserviently.

“This doctor I had disliked at first sight, and I soon began to imagine that I had good cause to hate him.  His conduct to his patient I believed to be tyrannical and unkind.  Some days he insisted that Mr. Compton was too ill to go out, though the poor gentleman begged for a walk; and again, mother said, he would take from him all his books, though he pleaded urgently for them.

“One afternoon the postman brought Dr. Orman a letter, which seemed to be important, for he asked father to drive him to the next town, and requested mother to see that Mr. Compton did not leave the house.  I suppose it was not a right thing to do, but this handsome sick stranger, so hardly used, and so surrounded with mystery, had roused in me a sincere sympathy for his loneliness and suffering, and I walked through that part of the garden into which his windows looked.  We had been politely requested to avoid it, ’because the sight of strangers increased Mr. Compton’s nervous condition.’  I did not believe this, and I determined to try the experiment.

“He was leaning out of the window, and a sadder face I never saw.  I smiled and courtesied, and he immediately leaped the low sill, and came toward me.  I stooped and began to tie up some fallen carnations; he stooped and helped me, saying all the while I know not what, only that it seemed to me the most beautiful language I ever heard.  Then we walked up and down the long peach walk until I heard the rattle of father’s wagon.