“If you will excuse me, Mademoiselle,” said Hand deferentially, “I think Mr. Hambleton’s broth is burning.”

“Ah, well, very well!” said Agatha.  And in spite of herself she smiled.

Hand found Mrs. Stoddard installed in James Hambleton’s room.  Doctor Thayer and Aleck had gone, both leaving word that they would return before night.  Mrs. Stoddard had smoothed James’s bed, folded down the sheet with exactness, noted her brother’s directions for treatment, and sat reading her Bible by the window.  Mr. Hand stood for a moment, silently regarding first the patient, then his nurse.

“By the grace of God, he will pull through, I firmly believe!” ejaculated Mrs. Stoddard.

As the first words came in that resonant deep voice, Hand thought that the new nurse was swearing, though presently he changed his mind.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with unwonted meekness.  Then, “I’ll sleep an hour or two, if that is agreeable to you, ma’am.”

“Perfectly!” heartily responded Mrs. Stoddard, and Mr. Hand disappeared like the mist before the sun.

It was to be an afternoon of excitement, after all, though Agatha thought that she would apply herself to the straightening out of much necessary business.  But after an hour’s work over letters at Parson Thayer’s desk, there occurred an ebullition below which could be nothing less than the arrival of Lizzie, Agatha’s maid, with sundry articles of luggage.  She was a small-minded but efficient city girl, clever enough to keep her job by making herself useful, and sophisticated to the point of indecency.  No woman ought ever to have known so much as Lizzie knew.  Agatha was to hear how she had been relieved by the telegram several days before, how she had nearly killed herself packing in such haste, how she thought she was traveling to the ends of the earth, coming thus to a region she had never heard of before.

Big Simon, who had been instructed to watch for Lizzie and bring her and her baggage out, presently arrived with the trunks, having sent the maid on ahead in the buggy with his son.  Big Simon positively declined to carry the two trunks to the second floor, saying he thought they’d like it just as well, or better, if he left them in the hall down-stairs.  Lizzie was angrily hesitating whether to argue with him or use the persuasion of one of her mistress’ silver coins, when Agatha interfered, and saved her from making the mistake of her life.  It is doubtful if she could have lived in Ilion after having been guilty of tipping one of its foremost citizens.  And even if she had, she would not have got the trunks taken up-stairs.

The prospect of discarding Sallie Kingsbury’s makeshifts and wearing a dress which belonged to her had more comfort in it than Agatha had ever believed possible; and the reality was even better.  She made a toilet, for the first time in many days, with her accustomed accessories, dressed herself in a white wool gown, and felt better.