“Poor Louis!” Isabelle had said, the last time he had been called to prescribe for her frequently recurring attacks of indisposition, “he will have to wait for promotion now before he can think of marriage.  It is very hard for him.”

So again the truth and the lie had mingled.

CHAPTER XXXII.

Very sweet grew the life at ‘The Willows’ and Mrs. Everidge and Evadne and Miss Diana found their hands full of happy work.

Unavella still reigned supreme in her kitchen. “’Tain’t a great sight harder to cook for a dozen than six,” she had remarked sententiously, when the plan was unfolded to her, “it’s only a matter uv quantity, the quality’s jest the same.  Ef Miss Di-an’s a’goin ter start in ter be a she Atlas an’ carry the world on her shoulders, she’ll find I’m warranted ter wash an’ not shrink in the rinsin’.  I’m not a’goin ter be left behind, without I hev changed my name.”

Dyce kept the rooms in spotless order and waited upon the guests.

“Dear friend,” said Evadne one morning, as she watched her putting loving touches to the dining table, “you take as much trouble as if you expected Jesus Christ to be here!”

“So I does, Miss ’Vadney,” she answered simply, “I never feels comfortable ’cept when dere’s a place fer de Lord,” and Evadne answered, “Dear Dyce, you make me feel ashamed!”

Many and varied were the guests who partook of their hospitality.  The famine which no material wealth can alleviate is not confined to the dwellings of the poor.  Hearts starve beneath coverings of velvet and loneliness often rides in a carriage.  Many were the patients whom the world counted “well to do” that John Randolph sent to Evadne to be comforted.  There was nothing to make them suspect that the keen intuition of the young physician had read their secret.  ‘The Willows’ was simply a charming retreat where he sent them to try his favorite tonics of sunlight and oxygen; they never dreamed they were to be the recipients of favors which would not be rendered in the bill.

It was a beautiful fellowship in which they were banded together, for the Hawthornes had returned and were learning to find their pleasure in doing their Father’s will.  Dick True was in the brotherhood also, and never came home for his vacations without bringing with him “some fellow who needed a taste of love,” and the overgrown boys would glory in their strength as they lifted Miss Diana from the carriage after a delightful drive, and learn a strange gentleness as they were unconsciously trained in the little deeds of chivalry which bespeak a true man.

Soon after Evadne’s dream had materialized John Randolph had sent her a dainty little equipage to help on the work.

“You are too kind!” she cried, as she thanked him, “too generous!”

“Can we be that?” he asked, “when we are giving to a King?  It is a theory of mine that a drive in the country with the right companion is better than exordiums.  These poor souls have never learned to see ‘sermons in stones, books in the running brooks, and God in everything.’  You must give me the pleasure of a little share in your beautiful work, my friend.”