“What a joyful surprise it will be to him!” said Beulah, closing the window and locking the melodeon.  She led the way down the steps, followed by her guardian and Charon.  “Suppose you wait a while in the music room?  It adjoins the library, and you can see and hear without being seen.” suggested she, with her hand on the bolt of the door.  He assented, and stood near the threshold which connected the rooms, while Beulah went into the library.  The gas burned brightly, and the doctor sat leaning far back in his armchair, with his feet on an ottoman.  His wife stood near him, stroking the gray hair from his furrowed brow.

“Alice, I wish, dear, you would get me an iced lemonade, will you?”

“Let me make it for you,” said Beulah, coming forward.

“Not you!  At your peril, you touch it.  You are overfond of the sour, miss.  Alice knows exactly how to suit me.”

“So you have turned homeopathist? take acids to—­”

“None of your observations, if you please.  Just be good enough to open the shutters, will you?  It is as hot in this room as if the equator ran between my feet and the wall.  Charming weather, eh?  And still more charming prospect, that I shall have to go out into it again before bedtime.  One of my delectable patients has taken it into his head to treat his wife and children to a rare show, in the shape of a fit of mania-a-potu; and, ten to one, I shall have to play spectator all night.”  He yawned as he spoke.

“You have an arduous time indeed,” began Beulah; but he hastily put in: 

“Oh, of all poor devils, we pill-box gentry do have the hardest times!  I am sick of patients, sick of physic, sick of the very sound of my own name.”

“If my guardian were only here to relieve—­”

“Confound your guardian!  Don’t mention him in my presence.  He is a simpleton.  He is what the ‘Ettrick Shepherd’ calls a ‘Sumph.’  You have no guardian, I can tell you that.  Before this he has gone through all the transmigrations of ‘Indur,’ and the final metempsychosis, gave him to the world a Celestial.  Yes, child; a Celestial.  I fancy him at this instant, with two long plaits of hair trailing behind him, as, with all the sublime complacency of Celestials, he stalks majestically along, picking tea leaves.  Confound your guardian.  Mention his name to me again, at the peril of having your board raised.”

“George, what is the matter with you?” asked his wife, smiling as she handed him the lemonade he had desired.

“This prating young woman is, as usual, trying to discourse of—­ Alice, this is just right.  Thank you, my dear.”  He drained the glass and handed it back.  Beulah stood so that the light shone full on her face.  He looked at her a moment, and exclaimed: 

“Come here, child.  What ails you?  Why, bless my soul, Beulah, what is the matter?  I never saw the blood in your face before; and your great, solemn eyes seem to be dancing a jig.  What ails you, child?” He grasped her hands eagerly.