“Dear me!  I wouldn’t be a doctor for any thing, nor a doctor’s wife!” exclaimed Zoe.

“Well, I don’t know:  there’s something to be said on both sides of that question,” laughed Ella.  “I can tell you, Art would make a mighty good husband; and it’s very handy, in ease of sickness, to have the doctor in the house.”

“Yes; but, according to your account, he’s generally somewhere else than in his own house,” returned Zoe playfully.

Ella laughed.  “Yes,” she said, “doctors do have a hard life; but, if you say so to Art, he always says he has never regretted having chosen the medical profession, because it affords so many opportunities for doing good.  It’s plain he makes that the business of his life.  I’m proud of Art.  I don’t believe there’s a better man anywhere.  I was sick last summer, and you wouldn’t believe how kindly he nursed me.”

“You can’t tell me any thing about him that I should think too good to believe,” said Zoe.  “He’s our family doctor, you remember; and, of course, we are all attached to him on that account, as well as because of the relationship.”

“Yes, to be sure.  There, Dinah, you may carry away my hat and cloak,” Ella said, divesting herself of them as she spoke, “but leave the satchel.  I brought my fancy-work, Zoe:  one has to be industrious now, as Christmas is coming.  I decided to embroider a pair of slippers for each of my three brothers.  Walter does not expect to get home; so I made his first, as they had to travel so far.  I’m nearly done with Art’s, and then I have Cal’s to do.”

“Oh, how pretty!” exclaimed Zoe, examining the work:  “and that’s a new stitch; won’t you teach it to me?”

“Yes, indeed, with pleasure.  And I want you to teach me how to crochet that lace I saw you making the other day.  I thought it so pretty.”

The two spent a pleasant morning chatting together over their fancy-work, saying nothing very wise, perhaps, but neither did they say any thing harmful:  an innocent jest now and again, something—­usually laudatory—­about some member of the family connection, and remarks and directions about their work, formed the staple of their talk.

“Oh! how did it come that you and Ned staid behind when all the rest went to Viamede for the winter?” asked Ella.

“Business kept my husband, and love for him and his society kept me,” returned Zoe, with a look and smile that altogether belied any suspicion Ella might have had that she was fretting over the disappointment.

“Didn’t you want to go?”

“Yes, indeed, if Edward could have gone with me; but any place with him is better than any other without him.”

“Well, I don’t believe I should have been willing to stay behind, even in your place.  I’ve always had a longing to spend a winter there visiting my sister Isa, and my cousins Elsie and Molly.  Cal and Art say, perhaps one or both of them may go on to spend two or three weeks this winter; and in that case I shall go along.”