We must be entirely sure of ourselves, unless we again wish to lose ourselves.

Now we presume that when 'on the tramp' as we put it, we were looking for a friend.

Is that not so ?" Helmsley nodded.
"We were trying to find the house of the late Mr.James Deane ?" Mary uttered a little sound that was half a sob and half a sigh.
Helmsley glanced at her with a reassuring smile, and then replied steadily,-- "That was so!" "Our friend, Mr.Deane, unfortunately died some five years since,"-- proceeded Mr.Bunce,--"And we found his daughter, or rather, his daughter found us, instead.

This we may put down to an act of Providence.

Now the only thing we can do under the present circumstances is to remain with our late old friend's daughter, till we get well." "But, doctor,"-- exclaimed Helmsley, determined, if possible, to shake something selfish, commercial and commonplace out of this odd little man with the faithful canine eyes--"I can't be a burden on her! I've got no money--I can't pay you for all your care! What you do for me, you do for absolutely nothing--nothing--nothing! Don't you understand ?" His voice rang out with an almost rasping harshness, and Mr.Bunce tapped his own forehead gently, but significantly.
"We worry ourselves,"-- he observed, placidly--"We imagine what does not exist.