was reported. The nurse who was in
attendance on Mrs. Frankland had been
suddenly taken ill, and was rendered quite
incapable of performing any further service
for at least a week to come, and perhaps for
a much longer period. In a large town this
misfortune might have been readily remedied,
but in a place like West Winston it was not
so easy to supply the loss of an experienced
nurse at a few hours' notice. When Mr.
Orridge was consulted in the new emergency,
he candidly acknowledged that he required a
little time for consideration before he could
undertake to find another professed nurse of
sufficient character and experience, to wait
on a lady like Mrs. Frankland. Mr. Frankland
suggested telegraphing to a medical friend in
London for a nurse, but the doctor was
unwilling for many reasons to adopt that plan,
except as a last resource. It would take
some time to find the right person, and to
send her to West Winston; and, moreover,
he would infinitely prefer employing a
woman with whose character and capacity
he was himself acquainted. He therefore
proposed that Mrs. Frankland should be
trusted for a few hours to the care of
her maid, under supervision of the landlady
of the Tiger's Head, while he made
enquiries in the neighbourhood. If the
enquiries produced no satisfactory result, he
should be ready, when he called in the
evening, to adopt Mr. Frankland's idea of
telegraphing to London for a nurse.

On proceeding to make the investigation
that he had proposed, Mr. Orridge, although
he spared no trouble, met with no success.
He found plenty of volunteers for the office
of nurse, but they were all loud-voiced,
clumsy-handed, heavy-footed countrywomen,
kind and willing enough, but sadly awkward,
blundering attendants to place at the bedside
of such a lady as Mrs. Frankland. The
morning hours passed away, and the afternoon
came, and still Mr. Orridge had found
no substitute for the invalided nurse whom
he could venture to engage.

At two o'clock he had half an hour's drive
before him to a country house, where he had
a child-patient to see. "Perhaps I may
remember somebody who may do, on the way
out, or on the way back again," thought Mr.
Orridge, as he got into his gig. "I have
some hours at my disposal still, before the
time comes for my evening visit at the inn."

Puzzling his brains, with the best intention
in the world, all along the road to the country
house, Mr. Orridge reached his destination
without having arrived at any other
conclusion than that he might just as well state
his difficulty to Mrs. Norbury, the lady whose
child he was about to prescribe for. He had
called on her when he bought the West
Winston practice, and had found her one of
those frank, good-humoured, middle-aged
women, who are generally designated by the
epithet "motherly." Her husband was a
country squire, famous for his old politics,
his old jokes, and his old wine. He had
seconded his wife's hearty reception of the
new doctor, with all the usual jokes about
never giving him any employment, and never
letting any bottles into the house, except the
bottles that went down into the cellar. Mr.
Orridge had been amused by the husband
and pleased with the wife; and he thought
it might be at least worth while, before he
gave up all hope of finding a fit nurse, to ask
Mrs. Norbury, as an old resident in the
West Winston neighbourhood, for a word of
advice.

Accordingly, after seeing the child, and
pronouncing that there were no symptoms
about the little patient which need cause the
slightest alarm to anybody, Mr. Orridge paved
the way for a statement of the difficulty that
beset him, by asking Mrs. Norbury if she had
heard of the "interesting event" that had
happened at the Tiger's Head.

"You mean," answered Mrs. Norbury, who
was a downright woman, and a resolute
speaker of the plainest possible English—
"you mean, have I heard about that poor
unfortunate lady who was taken ill on her
journey, and who had a child born at the
inn? We have heard so much, and no more
— living as we do (thank Heaven!) out of
reach of the West Winston gossip. How is
the lady? Who is she? Is the child well?
Is she tolerably comfortable, poor thing?
Can I send her anything, or do anything for
her?"

"You would do a great thing for her, and
render a great assistance to me," said Mr.
Orridge, "if you could tell me of any respectable
woman in this neighbourhood who would
be a proper nurse for her."

"You don't mean to say that the poor
creature has not got a nurse"! exclaimed
Mrs. Norbury.

"She has had the best nurse in West
Winston," replied Mr. Orridge. "But, most
unfortunately, the woman was taken ill this
morning, and was obliged to go home. I am
now at my wit's end for somebody to supply
her place. Mrs. Frankland has been used to
the luxury of being well waited on; and
where I am to find an attendant, who is
likely to satisfy her, is more than I can
tell."

"Frankland, did you say, her name was?"
enquired Mrs Norbury.

"Yes. She is, I understand, a daughter of
that Captain Treverton, who was lost with
his ship, a year ago, in the West Indies.
Perhaps you may remember the account of
the disaster in the newspapers?"

"Of course I do and I remember the
Captain too. I was acquainted with him
when he was a young man, at Portsmouth.
His daughter and I ought not to be strangers,
especially under such circumstances as the
poor thing is placed in now. I will call at the
inn, Mr. Orridge, as soon as you will allow me