But Esther appeared in all things to back up Dr. Callandar.  People admitted that they were disappointed in Esther and only hoped that the day would never come when she would be sorry.  For if all the world loves a lover, all the world is indulgent to a prospective bride and any one could see that this particular bride was being denied her proper privileges.  Any one would think she was a child and not to be trusted alone.  Esther went with her everywhere, simply everywhere.  Of course it was sweet of Esther to be so attentive, but people didn’t wonder that her mother didn’t like it.

Such were the current comments of the town, sent out somewhat in the nature of feelers, for behind them all, Coombe, having a very sensitive nose for gossip, was uneasily aware that their cleverest investigators were not yet in possession of the root of the matter.  Every one seemed to know everything, and yet—­no wonder that Miss Milligan picked her teeth in agonies of mental tumult at finding herself sole possessor of a satisfactory explanation which she was bound in honour not to disclose.

Mrs. Coombe had just been in.  She had been having a “first fitting” and in the privacy of the fitting room she had been perfectly frank with Miss Milligan.  She had told Miss Milligan “things.”  She had told her things which would move a heart of stone, regardless of the fact that Miss Milligan’s heart was made of the softest of soft materials and beat warmly under her spiky pin cushion.  The fact that her eyes were hard and black had nothing to do with it; mistakes in eyes occur constantly in the best regulated families.  At this very moment when her eyes were more like currants than ever she was making up her mind that, come what might, doctors or no doctors, she was not going to see a fellow creature put upon.

For, you see, Mrs. Coombe, poor little thing, had confided in Miss Milligan.  She had told her all about it, and like most mysteries, it had turned out to be very simple.  It seemed that Dr. Callandar, such a perfectly charming man in most respects, had a most absurd prejudice against patent medicines.  This prejudice, common to the medical profession on account of patents interfering with profits, was, in Dr. Callandar’s case, almost an obsession.  Miss Milligan, being a sensible person, knew very well that there are patents and patents.  Some of them are frauds, of course, but there are others which are better than any prescription that any doctor ever wrote.  Miss Milligan did not speak from hearsay, she had had an extensive experience the results of which lent themselves to conversational effort.  Therefore it is easy to see how she understood and sympathised at once when Mrs. Coombe told her of a remedy which she had found to be quite excellent but which the doctor absolutely forbade her to use.

“Not that he means to be inconsiderate, dear Miss Milligan, only he is so very sure of his own point of view.  Doctors have to be firm of course.  But you can see it is rather hard on me.  The trouble is that I cannot obtain the remedy I need in Coombe.  It is a remedy very little known and useful only in obscure nerve troubles.  I have been in the habit of getting it from a certain firm in Detroit, not a very well-known firm, and now, of course, that is impossible—­without upsetting the doctor, which I hesitate to do.”