Callandar's your name, Mark says--any chance of your being a cousin to Dr.Callandar of Montreal that cured Mrs.Sowerby ?" "No, I am not that Dr.Callandar's cousin." "I told Mark 'twasn't likely--or you wouldn't be here.

Not if he'd any family feeling.

I'm a great believer in a man making his own stepping-stones anyway," she went on with a friendly smile; "we ought to rise up on ourselves, like the poet says, and not on our cousins." "A noble sentiment," said Callandar gravely, as he followed her up the walk, across a veranda so clean that one hesitated to step on it, and into a small hall, bare and spotless, where he was invited to hang up his hat.
"You're younger than I expected," went on Mrs.Sykes kindly.

"I hope you ain't entirely dependent on your practice in Coombe ?" The amazed doctor was understood to murmur something about "private means." "That's good.

You'd starve if you hadn't.