"Your own, as ever,
"F. F."
Doctor Horton read this letter twice before opening the other, which was from Mrs. Fairfield herself, and ran as follows:
"My Dear Roger: I am sure you will not blame me for taking our darling Flossie out of harm's way, nor her for going. As I told her last night, you always were so sensible. The poor child has been in such a state, you've no idea! We feel real anxious about you. Do take every precaution, for Flossie's sake, though they say doctors never take diseases. Do wear a camphor-bag somewhere about you. I always did wish you had chosen the law—it is so much nicer. Of course Flossie will expect letters, but don't you think you had better soak the paper and envelopes in carbolic acid beforehand? They say it's very efficacious.
"Yours, affectionately,
"A. Fairfield.
"P. S.—You have no idea how the darling child's spirits have risen since we began packing. She is quite another creature.
"A. F."
Doctor Horton smiled as he read, but as he put both notes away in his desk, his face became grave and sad again.