"Isn't this Miss Perriman's house?"
"You are in the right box, my dear, and no mistake," said the young man; "but then it ain't Dr. Gibson's house, you know."
"Can you tell me, Sir, where I can find him?"
"Can't indeed; the doctor never tells me where he is going, and I never ask him. I am sorry I didn't this morning, for your sake."
The way, and the look, made the words extremely disagreeable; and, furthermore, Ellen had an uncomfortable feeling that neither was new to her. Where had she seen the man before? she puzzled herself to think. Where but in a dream had she seen that bold, ill-favoured face, that horrible smile, that sandy hair? She knew! It was Mr. Saunders, the man who had sold her the merino at St. Clair and Fleury's. She knew him; and she was very sorry to see that he knew her. All she desired now, was to get out of the house and away; but on turning she saw another man, older and respectable-looking, whose face encouraged her to ask again if Dr. Gibson was there. He was not, the man said; he had been there and gone.
"Do you know where I should be likely to find him, Sir?"
"No, I don't," said he; "who wants him?"
"I want to see him, Sir."
"For yourself?"
"No, Sir; Mr. Van Brunt has broken his leg, and wants Dr.
Gibson to come directly and set it."