Nevertheless, at a special meeting of the Ladies’ Aid, called for the purpose, it was decided to give the bride a present.  They had not intended to do it for fear of establishing a precedent.  But when it came out who Dr. Callandar was, it hardly seemed right to let one of their best known members go from them to a more exalted sphere in a city (which many of them might, from time to time, feel inclined to visit) without showing her by some small token how very highly she was held in their regard.  Every one could see the sense of this and the vote was unanimous.  In regard to the nature of the gift there was more diversity of opinion, but it was finally decided that, as the value of this kind of thing lies not in the gift but in the spirit of the giving, a brown jar with the word “Biscuits” in silver lettering would do very well.  Carving knives were thought of but as Mrs. Atkins very fitly said, “Everybody is sure to give carving knives”—­a phenomenon which all the ladies accepted as a commonplace.

Of the prospective bride herself, Coombe saw little.  She remained very much at home.  She had lost much of her spasmodic energy, was inclined to be moody and even rude.  Her state of health accounted naturally for this and also for the arrival of a new inmate at the Elms, a cool and capable looking person who was discovered, after much amazed enquiry, to be a trained nurse.  Not a hospital nurse exactly but a kind of special nurse whose duties included massage, and the giving of certain baths and things which the doctor thought strengthening.  Her name was Miss Philps.  Coombe never got behind that.  No one could ever boast that she knew more of Miss Philps than her name.  She was, and remains to this day, a mystery.

There are people like that, although this was Coombe’s first experience of one.  Miss Philps was not a recluse.  Everywhere Mrs. Coombe went, Miss Philps went too.  Even Esther was not more assiduous in her attentions.  She was not a silent person either, far from it.  She bubbled over with precise and cheerful comment, she appeared to talk even more than was absolutely necessary and it was only upon her departure that her entertainers noticed that she had said nothing at all.  A very baffling person to deal with.  Coombe could not manage to “take to” her at all and great sympathy was felt for Mrs. Coombe when she was reported to have said to Miss Milligan that going out with Miss Philps felt exactly like a jail delivery—­whatever that might be!

But if Miss Philps was not appreciated at large it was different in her own immediate circle.  She had not been at the Elms a day before Esther recognised the doctor’s wisdom in getting her.  She was discreet, capable, kindly.  The burden upon the girl’s shoulders grew momentarily lighter.  Miss Philps, with her matter of fact cheeriness, her strength and her experience, was exactly what that house of overstrained nerves needed.

“Dear me,” she said, “you’re all as fidgety as corn in a popper.  And no need for it.  I’ve nursed dozens worse than your mother, Miss Esther, and had them right as a trivet before I got through.  As long as we can keep her hands off the stuff—­and that’s what I’m here for.  So don’t worry!”