"Ain't you been at Mis' Tree's?"
"No, I am going there now. I have been out in the country. What is the matter?"
"James!" cried Miss Vesta's voice.
The sound of it struck the physician's ear; he looked at Diploma.
"What has happened?"
"Go in! go in and see her!" whispered the old woman. "They say Mis' Tree's dead; I dono; but go in, do, there's a good soul!"
"Oh, James!" cried Miss Vesta, and she held out both hands, trembling with fever and distress. "I am so glad you have come. James! Aunt Marcia is dead; there is crape on her door. Did you know? Were you with her? Oh, James, I am all alone now. I am all alone in the world!"
"Never, while I am alive!" said James Stedman, catching the little trembling hands in his. "Look up, Vesta! Cheer up, my dear! You can never be alone while I am in the same world with you. If your aunt is indeed dead, then you belong to me, Vesta; why, you know you do, you foolish little woman. There! there! stop trembling. My dear, did you think I would let you be really alone for five minutes?"
"Oh, James!" cried Miss Vesta. "Consider our age! Sister Phœbe—"
"I do consider our age," said Doctor Stedman. "It is just what I consider. We have no more time to waste. And Phœbe is not here. Here, drink this, my dear love! Now let me tuck you up again while I go and see what all this is about. Who told you Mrs. Tree was dead? She was alive enough this morning."