the loss of a valuable and attractive servant; if otherwise, a serious disturbance of that servant’s duties.  She must look out for another girl to take the place of Frida Pauline Jansen, that was all.  It is possible, therefore, that Miss Jansen’s criticism of Miss Trotter to her companion as a “spying, jealous old cat” was unfair.  This companion Miss Trotter had noticed, only to observe that his face and figure were unfamiliar to her.  His red shirt and heavy boots gave no indication of his social condition in that locality.  He seemed more startled and disturbed at her intrusion than the girl had been, but that was more a condition of sex than of degree, she also knew.  In such circumstances it is the woman always who is the most composed and self-possessed.

A few days after this, Miss Trotter was summoned in some haste to the office.  Chris Calton, a young man of twenty-six, partner in the Roanoke Ledge, had fractured his arm and collar-bone by a fall, and had been brought to the hotel for that rest and attention, under medical advice, which he could not procure in the Roanoke company’s cabin.  She had a retired, quiet room made ready.  When he was installed there by the doctor she went to see him, and found a good-looking, curly headed young fellow, even boyish in appearance and manner, who received her with that air of deference and timidity which she was accustomed to excite in the masculine breast—­when it was not accompanied with distrust.  It struck her that he was somewhat emotional, and had the expression of one who had been spoiled and petted by women, a rather unusual circumstance among the men of the locality.  Perhaps it would be unfair to her to say that a disposition to show him that he could expect no such “nonsense” There sprang up in her heart at that moment, for she never had understood any tolerance of such weakness, but a certain precision and dryness of manner was the only result of her observation.  She adjusted his pillow, asked him if there was anything that he wanted, but took her directions from the doctor, rather than from himself, with a practical insight and minuteness that was as appalling to the patient as it was an unexpected delight to Dr. Duchesne.  “I see you quite understand me, Miss Trotter,” he said, with great relief.

“I ought to,” responded the lady dryly.  “I had a dozen such cases, some of them with complications, while I was assistant at the Sacramento Hospital.”

“Ah, then!” returned the doctor, dropping gladly into purely professional detail, “you’ll see this is very simple, not a comminuted fracture; constitution and blood healthy; all you’ve to do is to see that he eats properly, keeps free from excitement and worry, but does not get despondent; a little company; his partners and some of the boys from the Ledge will drop in occasionally; not too much of them, you know; and of course, absolute immobility of the injured parts.”  The lady nodded; the patient lifted his blue eyes for an instant to