She hesitated.  “You spoke just now of playing with fire.  You don’t feel that in throwing two people so closely together you are risking something?”

He considered it.  “My idea is that Amy will administer her comradeship as she would her medicines.  She is the most conscientious girl alive; she won’t give him a drop too much.”

“Not a drop too much for his good, perhaps.  But what about hers, dear?  When he is himself Dr. Leaver can be a wonderfully interesting and compelling man, you know.  It would be a pity for her to grow to care for him, if—­I don’t suppose it is at all possible to expect him to care seriously for her,—­do you?”

“Well, I shouldn’t have said so a month ago.  But I’m just beginning to realize a new side to Amy Mathewson.  I don’t suppose I ever saw her—­to look at her—­out of her uniform, before that night when you dressed her up.  By George, along with the clothes she seemed to put on a new skin!”

“Uniforms are disguising things,” Ellen admitted, “and Amy is a lady, born and bred, in her uniform and out of it.  But it’s not much use speculating on what will happen, when the arrangements are already made.  We must just do our best for Dr. Leaver, and hope that no harm will come to either of them.”

“None will—­under your roof,” her husband asserted confidently.

CHAPTER VII

POINTS OF VIEW

“A lady downstairs to see you, Mrs. Burns.”  Cynthia presented a card.

It was early morning.  Ellen had just seen her husband off in the Green Imp, and was busy at various housewifely tasks.  She took the card in some surprise, for morning calls were not much in vogue in this small town.  But when she read the name—­“Miss Ruston”—­she gave a little cry of delight, and ran downstairs as one goes to welcome a long absent friend.

A graceful figure, radiant with health and good looks, dressed in the trimmest and simplest of travelling attire, yet with a gay and saucy air about her somewhere, quite difficult to locate, rose as Ellen came in.  Dark eyes flashed, lips smiled happily, and a pair of arms opened wide.  Ellen found herself caught and held in a warm embrace, which she returned with a corresponding ardour.

“Why, Charlotte, dear!” she cried.  “Where did you come from?  And why didn’t you let me know?”

“Straight from home, Len, darling.  And I didn’t let you know because I didn’t know myself till I was here.  Oh, do let me look at you!  How dear, how dear you are!  I had almost forgotten anybody could be so lovely.”

“That sounds like you, you enthusiastic person.  How glad I am to see you—­it seems so long.  I hope you have come to make me a visit, now you are here.”

“Just a wee one, for a day, while I make plans at express speed, and fly back again to grandmother.  I left her in Baltimore.”

“Really?  Did you bring her ’way up from Charleston?  Then she must be pretty well?”