Babette rose precipitately at the Doctor's entrance.

"Here's the Doctor, Mees Darling. May I go now, Monsieur?"

"Yes, you may go; but remain outside, in case I should, want you."

He shut the door on Babette, and took her place by the sick girl's bedside.

Babette lingered in the pa.s.sage, staring at the stormy morning, and gaping forlornly.

"I hope he won't be long," she thought. "I want to go to bed."

Dr. Frank, however, was long. Eight struck somewhere in the house; that was half an hour, and there was no sign of his coming. Babette shivered under her shawl, and looked more drearily than ever at the lashing sleet.

Nine--another hour, and no sign from the sick-room, yet. Babette rose up in desperation, but just at that moment Grace came upstairs.

"You here, Babette!" she said, surprised. "Who is with Agnes?"

"The Doctor, Mademoiselle! he told me to wait until he came out, and I have waited, and I am too sleepy to wait any longer. May I go, Mademoiselle?"

"Yes, go," said Grace, "I will take your place."

Babette departed with alacrity, and Grace sat down by the storm-beaten window. She listened for some sound from the sick-room, but none rewarded her. Nothing was to be heard but the storm, without, and now and then the opening and shutting of some door within.

Another half-hour. Then the door of the seamstress's room opened, and her brother came out. How pale he was--paler and graver than his sister ever remembered seeing him before.

"Well," she said, rising, "how is your patient?"

"Better," he briefly answered, "very much better."

"I thought she was worse, you look so pale."

"Pale, do I? This dismal morning, I suppose. Grace," he said, lowering his tone and looking at her fixedly, "whose ghost did old Margery say she saw?"

"Whose ghost! What a question!"

"Answer it!"

"Don't be so imperative, please. Master Harry's ghost, she said."

"And Master Harry is Captain Danton's son?"

"Was--he is dead now."

"Yes, yes! he was killed in New York, I believe."

"So they say. The family never speak of him. He was the black sheep of the flock, you know. But why do you ask? Was it his ghost Agnes saw?"

"Nonsense! Of course not! What should she know of Captain Danton's son?

Some one--one of the servants probably--came up the stairs and frightened her out of her nervous wits. I have been trying to talk a little sense into her foolish head these two hours."

"And have you succeeded?"

"Partly. But don't ask her any questions on the subject; and don't let Miss Danton or any one who may visit her ask any questions. It upsets her, and I won't be answerable for the consequences."

"It is very strange," said Grace, looking at her brother intently, "very strange that old Margery and Agnes Darling should both see an apparition in this house. There must be something in it."

"Of course there is--didn't I tell you so--an overheated imagination. I have known more extraordinary optical illusions than that in my time.

How is Margery--better again?"

"No, indeed. She will never get over her scare in this world. She keeps a light in her room all night, and makes one of the maids sleep with her, and won't be alone a moment, night or day."

"Ah!" said Doctor Frank, with professional phlegm. "Of course! She is an old woman, and we could hardly expect anything else. Does she talk much of the ghost?"

"No. The slightest allusion to the subject agitates her for the whole day. No one dare mention ghosts in Margery's presence."

"I hope you will all be equally discreet with Miss Darling. Time will wear away the hallucination, if you women only hold your tongues. I must caution Rose, who has an unfortunate habit of letting out whatever comes uppermost. Ah! here she is!"

"Were you talking of me?" inquired Miss Rose, tripping upstairs, fresh and pretty, in a blue merino morning dress, with soft white tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs.

"Do I ever talk of any one else?" said Dr. Frank.

"Pooh! How is Agnes Darling?"

"As well as can be expected, after seeing a ghost!"

"Did she see a ghost, though?" asked Rose, opening her hazel eyes.

"Of course she did; and my advice to you, Miss Rose, is to go to bed every night at dark, and to sleep immediately, with your head covered up in the bed-clothes, or you may happen to see one too."

"Thank you for your advice, which I don't want and won't take. Whose ghost did she see?"

"The ghost of Hamlet's father, perhaps--she doesn't know; before she could take a second look it vanished in a cloud of blue flame, and she swooned away!"

"Doctor Danton," said Rose, sharply, "I wish you would talk sense. I'll go and ask Agnes herself about it. I want to get at the bottom of this affair."

"A very laudable desire, which I regret being obliged to frustrate,"

said Doctor Danton, placing himself between her and the door.

"You!" cried Rose, drawing herself up. "What do you mean, sir?"

"As Miss Agnes Darling's medical attendant, my dear Miss Rose,--deeply as it wounds me to refuse your slightest request--I really must forbid any step of the kind. The consequences might be serious."

"And I am not to see her if I choose?" demanded Rose, her eyes quite flashing.

"Certainly you are to see her, and to fetch her jelly, and chicken, and toast, and tea, if you will; but you are not to speak of the ghost. That blood-curdling subject is absolutely tabooed in the sick-room, unless--"

"Unless what?" inquired Rose, angrily.