Tinker heard it too, and barked, and then the gate shut with a sudden sharp click and all was still.

Nathaniel must have crept up to bed in his stocking-feet, as they say in some parts, for I never heard him pass my door.
I was glad to be greeted by sunshine the next morning; the day seemed to smile on my new work like an unuttered benison, as I went down to my solitary breakfast.

I resolved that nothing Mr.Hamilton could say should damp or put me out of temper, and then I sat down and read a sad rambling letter from Jill, which was so quaint and original, in spite of its lugubriousness, that it made me smile.
I was standing by the door, caressing Tinker, who was in a frolicking mood this morning, when I saw Mr.Hamilton cross the road; he wore a dark tweed suit and a soft felt hat,--a costume that did not suit him in the least; he held open the gate for me, and made a sign that I should join him.

As I approached without hurrying myself in the least, he looked inquiringly at the basket I carried.
'I hope you do not intend to pauperise your patients,' was his first greeting.
'Oh no,' was my reply, but I did not volunteer any information as to the contents of the basket.

There was certainly a jar of beef-tea that Mrs.
Drabble had given me, and a few grapes; but the little store of soap, soda, fine rags, and the two or three clean towels and cloths would have surprised him a little, though he might have understood the meaning of the neat housewife.
'I am glad you wear print dresses,' was his next remark; 'they are proper for a nurse.