Instead of the prompt thanks which she expected, to her dismay Dr. Van Anden's face looked grave and troubled. Finally he slowly shook his head with a troubled—
"I don't think I can, Ester."
Such an amazed, grieved, hurt look as swept over Ester's face.
"It is no matter," she said at last, speaking with an effort. "Of course I know little of teaching, and perhaps could do no good; but I thought if help was scarce you might—well, never mind."
And here the Doctor interposed. "It is not that, Ester," with the troubled look deepening on his face. "I assure you we would be glad of your help, but," and he broke off abruptly, and commenced a sudden pacing up and down the room. Then stopped before her with these mysterious words: "I don't know how to tell you, Ester."
Ester's look now was one of annoyance, and she spoke quickly.
"Why, Doctor, you need tell me nothing. I am not a child to have the truth sugar-coated. If my help is not needed, that is sufficient."
"Your help is exactly what we need, Ester, but your health is not sufficient for the work."
And now Ester laughed. "Why, Doctor, what an absurd idea In a week I shall be as well as ever. If that is all you may surely count me as one of your teachers."
The Doctor smiled faintly, and then asked: "Do you never feel any desire to know what may be the cause of this strange lassitude which is creeping over you, and the sudden flutterings of heart, accompanied by pain and faintness, which take you unawares?"