And the lady shut her eyes, looking the picture of feebleness. "Have you taken the tonic, for which I left a prescription yesterday?" "Yes; but I'm no stronger." "How is your appetite?" "Bad." "Have you taken the morning walk in the garden that I suggested?" "O, dear, no! Walk out in the garden? I'm faint by the time I get to the breakfast-room! I can't live at this rate, doctor. What am I to do? Can't you build me up in some way? I'm burden to myself and every one else." And Mrs. Carleton really looked distressed. "You ride out every day?" "I did until the carriage was broken, and that was nearly a week ago. It has been at the carriage-maker's ever since." "You must have the fresh air, Mrs. Carleton," said the doctor, emphatically. "Fresh air, change of scene, and exercise, are indispensable in your case. You will die if you remain shut up after this fashion. Come, take a ride with me." "Doctor! How absurd!" exclaimed Mrs. Carleton, almost shocked by the suggestion. "Ride with you! What would people think?" "A fig for people's thoughts! Get your shawl and bonnet, and take a drive with me. What do you care for meddlesome people's thoughts? Come!" The doctor knew his patient. "But you're not in earnest, surely?" There was a half-amused twinkle in the lady's eyes. "Never more in earnest. I'm going to see a patient just out of the city, and the drive will be a charming one. Nothing would please me better than to have your company." There was a vein of humor, and a spirit of "don't care" in Mrs. Carleton, which had once made her independent, and almost hoydenish. But fashionable associations, since her woman-life began, had toned her down into exceeding propriety. Fashion and conventionality,