the presence of another pair of ears.  He was naturally a man of uncommon reserve, and most loyal in keeping his patients’ secrets.  If clergymen knew their congregations as well as physicians do, the sermons would be often more closely related to the parish needs.  It was difficult for the world to understand why, when Dr. Leslie was anything but prone to gossip, Marilla should have been possessed of such a wealth of knowledge of her neighbors’ affairs.  Strange to say this wealth was for her own miserly pleasure and not to be distributed, and while she often proclaimed with exasperating triumph that she had known for months some truth just discovered by others, she was regarded by her acquaintances as if she were a dictionary written in some foreign language; immensely valuable, but of no practical use to themselves.  It was sometimes difficult not to make an attempt to borrow from her store of news, but nothing delighted her more than to be so approached, and to present impenetrable barriers of discretion to the enemy.

“How is Nanny getting on?” the doctor asked.  “She looks stronger than she did a year ago.”

“Dear me, she’s wild as ever,” answered Mrs. Thacher, trying to smile; “but I’ve been distressed about her lately, night and day.  I thought perhaps I might see you going by.  She’s gettin’ to be a great girl, doctor, and I ain’t fit to cope with her.  I find my strength’s a-goin’, and I’m old before my time; all my folks was rugged and sound long past my age, but I’ve had my troubles—­you don’t need I should tell you that!  Poor Ad’line always give me a feelin’ as if I was a hen that has hatched ducks.  I never knew exactly how to do for her, she seemed to see everything so different, and Lord only knows how I worry about her; and al’ays did, thinkin’ if I’d seen clearer how to do my duty her life might have come out sort of better.  And it’s the same with little Anna; not that she’s so prone to evil as some; she’s a lovin’-hearted child if ever one was born, but she’s a piece o’ mischief; and it may come from her father’s folks and their ways o’ livin’, but she’s made o’ different stuff, and I ain’t fit to make answer for her, or for fetchin’ of her up.  I come to ask if you won’t kindly advise what’s best for her.  I do’ know’s anything’s got to be done for a good spell yet.  I mind what you say about lettin’ her run and git strong, and I don’t check her.  Only it seemed to me that you might want to speak about her sometimes and not do it for fear o’ wronging my judgment.  I declare I haven’t no judgment about what’s reasonable for her, and you’re her guardeen, and there’s the money her father’s sister has sent her; ’t would burn my fingers to touch a cent of it, but by and by if you think she ought to have schoolin’ or anything else you must just say so.”

“I think nothing better could have been done for the child than you have done,” said Dr. Leslie warmly.  “Don’t worry yourself, my good friend.  As for books, she will take to them of her own accord quite soon enough, and in such weather as this I think one day in the fields is worth five in the school-house.  I’ll do the best I can for her.”