Nan thought it very strange when she found that the doctor and his guest had been at school together, for the stranger seemed so old and worn.  They were talking about other classmates at first, and she sat still to listen, until the hour of Marilla’s return drew near and Dr. Leslie prudently returned to his own uninvaded apartment.  Nan was told, to her sorrow, that it was past her bed-time and as she stopped to say good-night, candle in hand, a few moments afterward, the doctor stooped to kiss her with unusual tenderness, and a little later, when she was safe in her small bedroom and under the coverlet which was Marilla’s glory, having been knit the winter before in an intricate pattern, she almost shook with fear at the sound of its maker’s vengeful footsteps in the lower room.  It is to be hoped that the influence of the meeting had been very good, and that one of its attendants had come home equal to great demands upon her fortitude and patience.  Nan could not help wishing she had thought to put away the jam, and she wondered how Marilla would treat them all in the morning.  But, to do that worthy woman justice, she was mild and considerate, and outdid herself in the breakfast that was set forth in the guest’s honor, and Dr. Ferris thought he could do no less than to add to his morning greeting the question why she was not growing old like the rest of them, which, though not answered, was pleasantly received.

The host and guest talked very late the night before, and told each other many things.  Dr. Leslie had somewhat unwillingly undertaken the country practice which had grown dearer to him with every year, but there were family reasons why he had decided to stay in Oldfields for a few months at least, and though it was not long before he was left alone, not only by the father and mother whose only child he was, but by his wife and child, he felt less and less inclination to break the old ties and transplant himself to some more prominent position of the medical world.  The leisure he often had at certain seasons of the year was spent in the studies which always delighted him, and little by little he gained great repute among his professional brethren.  He was a scholar and a thinker in other than medical philosophies, and most persons who knew anything of him thought it a pity that he should be burying himself alive, as they were pleased to term his devotion to his provincial life.  His rare excursions to the cities gave more pleasure to other men than to himself, however, in these later years, and he laughingly proclaimed himself to be growing rusty and behind the times to Dr. Ferris, who smiled indulgently, and did not take the trouble to contradict so untrue and preposterous an assertion.