“Very little, I imagine,” she replied. “I suppose I thought he had ‘a story’; that’s the common thing, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” admitted the doctor, “but it isn’t so, as far as I know. Caleb Trench comes of good old stock in Pennsylvania. His father lost a fortune just before Caleb left college; the old man’s dead, and his wife, too. Trench has had to work and work hard. He couldn’t take his law course, and he’s never complained. He got together a little money and had to pay it all out for his sister; she was dying of some spinal trouble, and had to be nursed through a long illness and buried. Trench gave every cent; now he’s making a new start. Hollis likes him, so does Miss Sarah.”

Diana smiled. “It’s something to please Miss Sarah.”

“I never did,” said William Cheyney calmly; “she declares I tried to poison her last time she was laid up with sciatica. She’s taking patent medicines now, and when she’s at the last gasp she’ll send for me and lay the blame on my shoulders.”

“It’s hard to be a doctor after all, isn’t it?” laughed Diana; then she leaned forward and caught[55] the blossoming end of a vagrant dogwood and broke off the flowers as they passed. “Dr. Cheyney,” she went on, after a long moment, “I’ve wanted you to see father again; I don’t believe he’s well.”

[55]

“Why not?” asked the doctor, his eyes on the mist of rain that seemed to move before them like the pillar of cloud before the Israelites.

“He’s moody,” she said, “he’s almost sad at times and—and he spent an hour in the Shut Room—” She paused and looked questioningly at the old man beside her, but he made no comment.

In the pause they heard the slush of Henk’s hoofs in the muddy road.

“I wish he wouldn’t,” Diana continued; “it’s beautiful—his devotion to my mother’s memory, but I—I’m jealous of that Shut Room, it makes him so unhappy. Couldn’t I break it up by taking him away?”

The doctor shook his head. “Better not, Diana,” he cautioned her, “better not. You can’t uproot an old tree. Let him fight his battle out alone.”

“I can’t bear that he should be alone,” she protested tenderly. “I can’t bear to be shut out even from his griefs. Pa and I are all in all to each other. Why does he never speak of mother? Is it his sorrow?”

Dr. 

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