CHAPTER XXV.
BOMBSHELLS AND BROMIDE About noon on the next day, Mrs.Tolbridge sat down at her desk to finish the writing of the letter which had been so abruptly broken off the day before.

She had been very busy that afternoon and a part of this morning, assisting Mrs.Drane and her daughter in their removal from a hot street in a little town to the broad freedom and fine air of a spacious country home.
And this change had given so much pleasure to all parties concerned that it was natural that so good a woman as Mrs.Tolbridge should feel a glow of satisfaction in thinking of the part she had taken in it.
She was satisfied in more ways than one: it was agreeable to her to assist in giving pleasure to others, but besides this, she had a little satisfaction which was peculiarly her own; she was pleased that that very pretty and attractive Cicely would now work for the doctor, instead of working so much with him.

Of course she was willing to give up the little room if it were needed, but it was a great deal pleasanter not to have it needed.
"It is so seldom," she thought, as she lifted the lid of her desk, "that things can be arranged so as to please everybody." At this moment she glanced through the open window and saw Miss Panney at the front gate.

Closing her desk, Mrs.Tolbridge pushed back her chair, her glow of satisfaction changing into a little chill.
"Is the doctor at home ?" she inquired of the servant who was passing the door, and on receiving the negative reply, the chilly feeling increased.
Miss Panney was in a radiant humor.

She seated herself in her favorite rocking-chair; she laid her fan on the table near her and her reticule by it, and she pushed back from her shoulders a little India shawl.
"I am treating myself," she said, "to a regular gala day; in the first place, I intend to stay here to luncheon.