Geoffrey Strong | Page 3

houses."
A faint red crept into Miss Phoebe's cheek; it was one of her dreams to
have an oil-painting of her house. The young doctor had found a joint
in her harness.
"I should be indeed pleased--" she began; and, being slightly fluttered,
she dropped her handkerchief again, and again the young doctor picked
it up and handed it to her.
"I am distressed!" said Miss Phoebe. "I am--somewhat hampered by
rheumatism, Doctor Strong. It is not uncommon in persons of middle
age."
"No, indeed! My mother--I mean my aunt--younger sister of my
mother's-- used to suffer terribly with rheumatism. I was fortunate
enough to be able to relieve her a good deal. If you would like to try the
prescription, Miss Blyth, it is entirely at your service. Not
professionally, please understand, not professionally; a mere
neighbourly attention. I hope we shall be neighbours. Don't mention it,
please don't, because I shall be so glad, you know. Besides--you have a
little look of my--aunt; she has very regular features."

Miss Phoebe thanked him with a rather tremulous dignity; he was a
most courteous and attractive young man, but so impetuous, that she
felt a disturbance of her cool blood. It was singular, though, how little
dear Doctor Stedman had been able to do for her rheumatism, for as
many years as he had been attending her. Perhaps newer methods-- it
must be confessed that Doctor Stedman was growing old.
"Where do you intend to lodge, Doctor Strong?" she asked, by way of
changing the subject gracefully.
The young doctor did not know, was quite at a loss.
"There is only one house that I want to lodge in!" he said, and his bold
face had grown suddenly timid, like a schoolboy's. "That is, of course
there are plenty of good houses in the village, Miss Blyth, excellent
houses, and excellent people in them, I have no doubt; but-- well, there
is only one house for me. You know what house I mean, Miss Blyth,
because you know how one can feel about a really fine house. The
moment I saw it I said, 'That is the house for me!' But Doctor Stedman
said there was no possible chance of my getting taken in there."
"I really do not know how Doctor Stedman should speak with authority
on the subject!" said Miss Phoebe Blyth.
Young doctor! young doctor! is this the way you are going to comport
yourself in the village of Elmerton? If so, there will be flutterings
indeed in the dove-cotes. Before night the whole village knew that the
young doctor was going to board with the Blyth girls!

CHAPTER II
.
THE YOUNG DOCTOR
"And he certainly is a remarkable young man!" said Miss Phoebe Blyth.
"Is he not, Sister Vesta?"
Miss Vesta came out of her reverie; not with a start,--she never
started,--but with the quiet awakening, like that of a baby in the
morning, that was peculiar to her.
"Yes! oh, yes!" she said. "I consider him so. I think his coming
providential."
"How so?" asked the visitor. There was a slight acidity in her tone, for
Mrs. Weight was one of the motherly persons mentioned by the

minister's wife, and had looked forward to caring for the young doctor
herself. With her four children, all croupy, it would have been
convenient to have a physician in the house, and as the wife of the
senior deacon, what could be more proper?
"I must say he doesn't look remarkable," she added; "but the
light-complected seldom do, to my mind."
"It is years," said Miss Vesta, "since Sister Phoebe has suffered so little
with her rheumatism. Doctor Strong understands her constitution as no
one else ever has done, not even dear Doctor Stedman. Sister Phoebe
can stoop down now like a girl; can't you, Sister Phoebe? It is a long
time since she has been able to stoop down."
Miss Vesta's soft white face glowed with pleasure; it was a gentle glow,
like that at the heart of certain white roses.
Mrs. Weight showed little enthusiasm.
"I never have rheumatism!" she said, briefly. "I've always wore gold
beads. If you'd have tried gold beads, Phoebe, or a few raisins in your
pocket, it's my belief you'd never have had all this trouble."
It was now Miss Phoebe's turn to colour, but hers was the hard red of a
winter pear.
"I am not superstitious, Anna Maria," she said. "Doctor Strong
considers gold beads for rheumatism absurd, and I fully agree with him.
As for raisins in the pocket, that is nonsense, of course."
"It's best to be sure of your facts before reflecting upon other folks'
statements!" said Mrs. Weight, with dignity. "I know whereof I speak,
Phoebe. Father Weight is ninety years old this very month,