CHAPTER VI.
THE DOCTOR.
After the young people had departed on the morning of that eventful day, Miss Helen Campbell settled herself in a hammock on the upper porch with a novel and two new magazines. She loved the “children,” as she called them, and the sound of their voices and laughter was as music to her ears, but occasionally she enjoyed a peaceful morning to herself without any chatter to disturb her quietude.
Who would have imagined as she sat there idly swinging in the hammock, that the dainty little lady was all the way to sixty years old? Her eyes were as blandly blue and clear as a child’s; her complexion had never lost its peach blossom glow, and the fine network of wrinkles around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth was only faintly visible.
“But I’m getting old,” she thought. “Those long trips have rejuvenated my spirits but my body is tired. I haven’t the physique for adventuring any longer. I don’t think I could stand a shock of any kind, great or small.”
Her thoughts broke off at this point and she idly touched the railing of the porch with one of her little feet and set the hammock to a gentle motion like a rocking cradle.
“No, I shall not put myself in the way of shocks. I am glad we are not touring this summer; just taking life peacefully——”
Again her thoughts broke off. Her eyes wandered across the wide vista of valley flanked by a range of mountains. The landscape was flecked by great shadows cast by lazily moving ribbons of cloud. The foliage of the trees and the undergrowth on the opposite mountains were like rugs of velvet. One might imagine a gigantic figure stretched out on the soft green patches of forest. There were no harsh outlines to the mountains. Their rugged edges were veiled and softened by the shadows of the passing clouds. Miss Campbell closed her eyes.
“Life is very pleasant,” she thought, “even at sixty.”