death of that parent, and his return to his native city, he had given up his practice.
From the time he had first met the Ruysdales a great change had come over his quiet, aimless life. The outer room of his little suite had been fitted up, poorly but decently, as an office, and below the window where the flowers grew, a new sign had appeared, bearing the name of Dr. Philip Rondelet in gilt letters. He had procured some hospital work, and was beginning to have a little practice, principally among a class of people whose reward mainly took the shape of thanks and blessings. One woman, whose child he had brought through a painful illness, told him she should pray for him daily. He accepted the prayers, but thought of the colored minister's exhortation about "acts of praise," as distinguished from words.
The pleasant duty of escorting Miss Ruysdale and Mrs. Harden to their respective homes that afternoon fell to the young physician. He accepted Mrs. Harden's invitation to dinner. When they arrived, they found that Mr. Darius Harden was at home. He usually was at home when he was not at his office. The husband of Mrs. Harden was as different from that lady in every respect as the most ardent advocate of the law of opposites could have desired. Mrs. Harden was fair, plump, practical, and jolly;
