DOCTOR OLCOTT was on his rounds with the Polar Bear. It was somewhat hard to see how he would have got along without that valuable fur-bearing animal, for he was giving no attention whatever to his driving, and it is to be doubted if he knew even what road they were taking together. He had one leg out of the low buggy, his foot on the step, and his mind seemed to be wandering — taking a vacation, perhaps; although, judging from the way he was frowning, he was worried about something. For the good doctor did worry, on occasion, over his patients. They were not mere cases to him; and, although he was well aware that it was considered bad form — and fatal to the doctor concerned — to worry about them, they were human beings and his friends, most of them, and he did worry over them. He could n’t help it. But he did n’t seem to be getting thin with his worrying. There were other things to be feared than getting thin.

The Polar Bear had it all his own way, and he knew it; and he jogged along with his customary care, turning out for any carriage that they met, while the occupant of that carriage hailed the doctor heartily and the doctor responded as heartily, coming back, momentarily, to his surroundings for that purpose. The Polar Bear knew well enough where the doctor was going, and he was to be trusted to take him there safely and to stop before the right gate; and then, if the doctor had not come to himself by that time, to look around inquiringly.

“Well, doctor,” the look said, as plainly as if he had spoken, “here we are! Why don’t you get out ? It’s your move.”

Indeed, he always said it plainly enough. If what he said was not always understood, it was no fault of his.

So the old white horse jogged on, dragging the buggy, that sagged hopelessly on one side under the not inconsiderable weight of the doctor. The doctor was aware that it sagged — permanently — and that the top was stained and weatherbeaten. The fact did not trouble him. He was not a city doctor, with fees which would enable him to keep an automobile and a chauffeur — or a sanitarium — and a sanitarium, I should have said — and which would have made it necessary for him to dress the part. He did not regret the automobile and the chauffeur, nor the dress. He would have found all of those but a burden; but he had longings for the sanitarium. He would put Miss Wetherbee in it, and would make her work like — like — ahem — other women, — Mrs. Loughery, for instance. And he would put Joe Loughery in it, and would not let him work. And there were others. As the doctor thought of it, he sighed.

The Polar Bear veered to the side of the road, turned his head inquiringly, and hesitated slightly. The doctor came to himself.

“ No, no, Sammy,” he said, “ not today. She has n’t sent for me to-day. Go on, Sammy.”

And the old doctor chuckled as the old horse took the middle of the road again. “ You did n’t know, did you, Sammy ? And you thought that Miss Wetherbee might have sent for me at any time, did n’t you ? Well, so she might. She may even have sent since we started. You are brighter than I am, Sammy. I’ll look.”

And the doctor turned and looked through the little window in the back of the buggy. He saw a great house — almost too great a house for one poor old woman; for Miss Wetherbee was a poor old woman, in spite of her being one of the richest in Old Harbor and inclined to be miserly — a great house that stood nearer the street than was the fashion, and a board fence about shoulder-high. And the board fence was surmounted with two feet more of pickets. The pickets were at just the height to make it most trying for any one walking by the fence when the sun was low, so that such persons involuntarily and invariably closed their eyes; and, in consequence, involuntarily and invariably ran into Miss Wetherbee emerging from her own gate. It was inconvenient; possibly as inconvenient for the aforesaid persons as it was for Miss Wetherbee. And it was annoying to have Miss Wetherbee berate you for running into her, when it was rather more than half her own fault. She had no business to have such a fence, especially about sunset. At any other time it was well enough, for you could see, through it, the very formal little garden with its high and full borders of box. The box alone was sufficiently remarkable, every plant almost a tree.

The doctor saw all this. At least, if he did not see the garden behind the board fence, he was conscious of it. And he saw more than this; for, leaning far out of a window just over the door, was an old woman. And the old woman was frantically waving a handkerchief and calling “ Doctor! Doctor Olcott! ”

The doctor chuckled again. “ You’re right, Sammy. She has. But go on. We’ll stop on our way home. That’ll give her time to get well. If she gets mad about it, so much the better. It’ll do her good.”

All that Miss Wetherbee needed was something to do. Doctor Olcott had told her so, bluntly; and Miss Wetherbee had scoffed at him and as much as called him an old fool. And Doctor Olcott had smiled and had gone away — which was not what might have been expected. Yes, if she got mad with him now, why, so much the better. He sighed — but he did wish that he might have that sanitarium. He could make a good beginning at filling it, right away. For, besides Miss Wetherbee and Joe Loughery, there was Mrs. Houlton.

Mrs. Houlton did not have Miss Wetherbee’s complaint. She had no time for complaining, even if she had been inclined to it. Indeed, a widow with eight children and next to nothing a year has barely time to eat and not enough to sleep, and Mrs. Houlton was working herself to death. There was no manner of doubt about that, and the doctor had told her so as nearly as he dared, and that was pretty near. And he had urged her to rest; completely, if possible, but if she could not do that, then as much as she could.

And Mrs. Houlton had smiled at him cheerfully. “ Don’t you think I ought to have a piece of the moon for breakfast, doctor?” she had asked, somewhat irrelevantly.

And the doctor had growled out some reply about feeble-minded persons doing as they were told, at which Mrs. Houlton had laughed outright.

Then the doctor had gone home, leaving Mrs. Houlton in her kitchen, darning stockings while she got dinner for nine. The stockings were mostly darns; and he knew very well that she would sit up far into the night, after the children were all in bed, mending the clothes that the eight were to wear the next day. So the doctor swore softly to himself and sent her some work. She had been asking for some work that she could do, and she embroidered beautifully; or so the doctor thought. And, although the doctor was, probably, no judge of embroidery, there was reason to think that, in this instance, he was right. He had asked her, in Miss Joyce’s name, to embroider the table-linen which he enclosed. What should the doctor do with embroidered table-linen? He had trouble enough in selecting the linen; but he did it.

“ I’ll see Hattie to-morrow,” he said to himself, “and make it right with her.”

And now he remembered, with a shock, that he had not mentioned the table-linen to Hattie. It would be convenient, in some respects, if he were married. He would not be buying table-linen for widows to embroider if he were married; and he was more likely to be wrong, in his choice of the linen, than right. He would stop in at Hattie’s on his way home, and consult her; not about his marriage — and the doctor chuckled once more — but about the table-linen. Doctor Olcott was in danger of forgetting Miss Wetherbee. And when he had settled that little matter of the linen he might be able to get in a word about Miss Harriet herself without seeming to make a point of it. She was looking poorly — run down and tired out, no doubt. A vacation would do her a world of good. She might manage it, if she would.

Suddenly the Polar Bear drew in to the curb as if he would stop. The doctor was annoyed.

“ Damn it, Sammy,” he said, without looking up, “ go on. What you stopping for ? ” And he slapped him with the reins.

Sammy paid no attention to the doctor’s evident wishes in the matter of going on, but continued on his way to the curb, his spirits no more ruffled than his thick fur by so small a thing as a slap of the reins. He did not lay it up against the doctor. It seemed to amuse the doctor, and it did not hurt Sammy; but Sammy’s intentions were quite as evident as the doctor’s, and Sammy was in a position to carry them out.

“ Well, you old skate,” remarked the doctor affectionately, “ if you will, you will; and there’s an end on’t.” And he sighed and roused himself and looked around. “ Hitty Tilton must want me,” he said. “ She would n’t send till the last gun fired. But Sammy knew.”

And he got out of the buggy with some difficulty, and went wheezing into the house; from which he presently emerged with a look of great satisfaction.

“ You knew, Sammy, did n’t you? ” he said, as he slowly climbed in. “ It’s a mystery to me how you did, but you certainly did. And we settled Hitty’s hash. She’d have been a sick old woman if I had n’t, with the cold weather due any day; and pneumonia, Sammy. Hitty’s not in the first flush of youth, as you and I are, Sammy. But we settled her. And we’ll get no thanks from her, either. But we could n’t neglect the Tilton girls, could we? Bless ’em! They’re the real old sort.” He gathered up the reins. “Now go on.”

And the Polar Bear began to jog along again. They were a pair, the doctor and his old horse. The doctor had some such thought.

“ Hurry, Sammy, if it is in you. We shan’t get around before dinner, at this rate. But what if we don’t? There’s nobody waiting for us.” He sighed. “ I’m beginning to wish there was, Sammy. But we don’t need anybody, do we, Sammy, — you and I, two old skates.”

And Sammy turned his head and looked at the doctor. They understood each other. And they went on together. And Sammy stopped at one house after another, and from some of the houses Doctor Olcott puffed out cheerfully, wheezing to Sammy that that was that. As if Sammy did not know it! And from other houses the doctor emerged slowly, and he did not tell Sammy that that was that, but he took up the reins in frowning silence.

So it happened that the doctor was weary in body and soul by the time the Polar Bear stopped before Miss Joyce’s gate. He got slowly out of the buggy, which gave under his weight until the body touched the axles on one side; and he went puffing and wheezing up the long walk. Harriet saw him coming and opened the door herself.

“ Come in, doctor,” she said, as he mounted the last step.

The doctor was very short of breath. “ I’m — coming.” He plumped down on the hall settle and wheezed there for a few minutes. Miss Harriet waited. He got his breath, in time.

“ I came in to see you,” said the doctor. “ And I want to tell you, while I think of it, Hattie, that if I expire suddenly after getting into this house, you will be responsible. My death will be upon that smooth head of yours.”

Miss Harriet smiled affectionately. Not many who knew him could help regarding this rough old man affectionately, in spite of the fact that he was apt to swear absent-mindedly.

“ I am glad to see you — always, doctor,” she said. “ But I am quite well, I think; that is” — she had remembered suddenly that she had meant to ask him —

“ Yes, ‘ that is,’ ” interrupted the doctor. “ You are well enough, but tired out. And you must be careful, Hattie. You see, I’m selfish, as usual. I only want to save myself some work.”

The tears came to Miss Harriet’s eyes. It showed that the doctor was right, that the tears should come so readily. “ If all selfish men were like you, doctor! ” she said. “ But what do you want me to do?”

There was great satisfaction in the doctor’s voice. “ That’s a proper spirit, Hattie. I wish all my patients were as reasonable. Take a vacation for a few days. Go on a spree.”

Miss Harriet’s laugh bubbled out at that. “ A spree! ” she cried. “ I — almost feel as though I could — as though I wanted to. But what do people do when they are on a spree? Is n’t it customary to — drink ? ”

Doctor Olcott laughed, too, a great rumbling laugh. “ It is n’t necessary,” he said, “ and it might be dangerous for some. I don’t advise it — although it would do you no harm. Go up to Boston, and — and go to some show that will make you laugh — and put no strain on your brain-cells. Do anything that comes into your head, except worry.”

“ Well,” she said, speaking slowly, I’ll think of it. I think I will. And you must tell me more about it — prime me — before I go.”

“ I wish,” said the doctor, grumbling, " that you could induce all my patients to take my advice as well — to follow my prescriptions.”

“ Why,” said Miss Harriet, “ who is difficult, now? ” There was a twinkle in her eyes.

“ Mrs. Houlton,”

And Miss Harriet laughed.

“Oh, you may laugh,” said the doctor. “ But she’s killing herself. If she does n’t take a rest she’ll die.”

“ Forgive me for laughing, doctor,” replied Miss Harriet. “ It was not because I did n’t appreciate the gravity of the situation. And won’t she obey your orders? ”

“ No,” growled the doctor. “ Obey my orders! Why, she flouts me and my orders. It makes me mad, so that I say things that I should n’t.”

“ Oh, doctor, you don’t swear! ”

“ I’m afraid I do. And I’m convinced that she’ll give me a fit of apoplexy. And she laughs at me when I am properly mad. She just laughs.”

Miss Harriet laughed again. “ I knew it! ” she cried. “ I knew it. Have you been there this morning ? ”

“ No,” growled the doctor again. “ I did n’t dare to.” And he told her about the table-linen that was to be embroidered.

“ And you aid and abet her in evil,” said Miss Harriet, when he had finished. " What else can you expect? ”

The doctor rumbled in his throat. Miss Harriet could not understand wdiat he said, except that it was something about feeble-minded and foolish women.

“ I’ll help you about the embroidering,” she said. “ And I’ll do what I can to induce her to take a rest, but I have n’t the least expectation of success. She has no husband living — ”

“ Ought to have one,” rumbled the doctor. “ Ought to have one, to make her stand around.”

“ Well? ” said Miss Harriet, smiling.

“What do you mean, Hattie?” growled the doctor. “ What do you mean by your insinuations ? If you mean me, by—ahem — Well, I’d marry her in a minute if I thought she’d take orders from me any better. That is, if she’d have me — which she wouldn’t. Of course she would n’t. She’s no fool.”

Miss Harriet was still smiling. “ Try it,” she said.

“ Try it! ” cried the doctor. “ You speak as if it was a cough medicine or a tonic. Well, by — er — well, if there’s no other way, I will. By gad, Hattie, I will. And a pretty mess you’ve got me into.” The doctor rose. ” Good-by, Hattie. Don’t forget, you’re to go on a spree.”

And he rolled off down the walk, while Miss Harriet stood at the door, smiling after him.

Doctor Olcott came into his house; stopped to wheeze a while on a chair in the hall, then took off his overcoat, sighed, and started up the stairs. It was very late in the afternoon and he was tired. And, because it was so late, there had been no man to take his horse, for the doctor had but an hour each day of the man’s time, having, in general, no use for more of it. And, also because it was late, it was as dark as pitch, so that the doctor had been obliged to feel about for a lantern; and having found it and got it lighted, to put up his horse himself.

Putting up the Polar Bear, in such a case, was a simple matter enough, consisting only in unhitching him from the sleigh — snow had come, at last — and turning him into his stall, with his harness on. The Polar Bear did not miss his rub down; that was a trivial matter, to which he submitted with apparent content when he must, as it seemed to be an amusement for the man. The Polar Bear was a tolerant animal; but it was, on the whole, a cause of gratification that there was no man to rub him down to-night, for it delayed matters. There was no doubt in his mind about that. And the man had thrown down some hay and put a measure of oats where he knew enough to look for it.

It was superfluous to tie him, and the doctor did not once contemplate it. The Polar Bear was never tied. It saved halters. And the doctor knew that, when he got tired of staying in his stall and doing nothing, he would wander about the barn, investigating anything that seemed likely to prove of interest to a bored old white horse. He did not go up to the loft, principally because the door at the foot of the stairs was kept locked; and he had not learned to open the sliding doors. The other door was easy. For that reason it was never used, and the padlock that held it against the experiments of the Polar Bear had rusted fast.

Doctor Olcott thought, with some envy, of Sammy, whom he had left munching his oats in great content. The doctor was hungry, too, and he would have been glad to sit down to his supper with as little preparation and as free a mind as Sammy had, who took things as they came. The doctor took things as they came, too. He had to. But he could not hope for a free mind. He sighed again; and, having made what preparation seemed necessary for supping with himself, went down.

He found the dining-room, with its unshaded lamp, unusually dreary. The doctor did not like unshaded lamps; that was not the reason that he had it. But he had talked to his housekeeper and cook about it until he had grown weary of the futility of talk. His housekeeper and cook was a well-meaning person, who would have done anything for the doctor — anything in reason; but this was not in reason. She had lived in an atmosphere of unshaded lamps all her life and had not been aware of any discomfort. Why should the doctor ask for a shade?

Of course, if he had insisted upon it, as he had for his study-lamp, with language that a self-respecting woman could not listen to — he had even bought a lamp, especially for it, with a porcelain shade; and green, at that, with not a single bird or flower on it. And he had said that if she kept that lamp filled and trimmed she might have what she pleased in the dining-room, and be something to her. She had left the room, at that, so that she was not rightly sure just what it was he said.

The doctor had but just come from Mrs. Houlton’s. And he had had a glimpse into her dining-room; a pleasant room, warm and snug and homelike, with its shaded lamp shedding a soft glow over the neatly spread table — and making a glow at the doctor’s heart, too. No doubt his own dining-room seemed all the drearier for that glimpse, and his own supper a dismal function to be got through with as soon as possible. It was all Mrs. Houlton’s fault. There was no doubt in the doctor’s mind about that, and he felt a dull resentment. And there had been the noisy crew of Houlton children, too, “ helping mother,” coming and going in the kitchen and the dining-room, setting the table — or finishing that task — and carrying things, all at once; running into one another in the doorway and crying out; Betty telling Sally, in tones of vexation, to “ look out! You’ll make me spill it.” Willie Houlton, meanwhile, his task of putting the napkins and bibs in their places already done, was practicing standing on his hands against the wall, while little Jimmy looked on in admiration that would have emulated if he had but dared. The doctor himself had much the same feeling. He would have liked to try it, alone with Willie, perhaps out in his barn; but what would be thought of a man of his age — and of his build — who essayed standing on his hands ?

Oh, yes, it was a noisy crew, a very noisy crew. But the doctor was fond of children, and there are things more to be desired than quiet — of a kind. And these Houltons were a particularly lovable lot of youngsters. He had caught himself smiling in a foolish, sentimental sort of way — and Mrs. Houlton had caught him at it, too. And she had come and stood beside him, smiling, too, in exactly the same sort of way; and, finally, she had spoken.

“,They’re worth it,” she had said, ” don’t you think, doctor? ”

And then the doctor had growled and rumbled something that nobody could have understood unless it was Mrs. Houlton. She had looked up at him and laughed.

That — or something — made him mad. She was always laughing at him. She paid about as much attention to his orders as she might to the blowing of the wind. He said so.

She said nothing for a full minute. She only stood and looked over the teeming room, a pleasant light in her eyes. “ For the wind bloweth where it listeth,” she murmured. “ I can’t doctor. I can’t. What would they do ? And what should I do? I shall get along. But I thank you, from my heart, doctor. I am deeply grateful.” And she looked up at him; but she did not laugh, this time.

The doctor understood, which may be thought strange. Mrs. Houlton’s speech was not very clear, perhaps.

He cleared his throat, with unnecessary loudness. “ Mrs. Houlton,” he said, “ you’re a good woman.” And he went out to Sammy, who had waited as patiently as could be expected of a horse who knew very well that it was supper-time.

The doctor finished his plate of apple sauce and his hunk of gingerbread. They did not seem to merit such haste, for it was good apple sauce and excellent gingerbread; but the doctor seemed to be in a hurry — perhaps it was merely that he wanted to escape from that cheerless room. And he pushed back his plate, and rose, sighing, and went at once to his study. The lamp was lighted, and it cast a circle of light over his table and the pipes and books and papers that littered it; and there was a smaller circle of light on the ceiling that seemed to be flaring and smoking. The corners of the room and the ceiling beyond that small circle were enveloped in a soft, green gloom.

The doctor glanced about, at the piles of books that cumbered the chairs, and at other piles that showed dimly, in the corners, in front of the half-emptied bookcases, upon everything that would hold books. It was plainly a man’s room. That must have been evident, upon sight, to any woman — and to any man ordinarily observant and of average intelligence. But it suited the doctor, and in its apparent disorder there was the essence of order. He knew where everything was, where to lay his finger on any book that he wanted. He had said just that to his housekeeper, and given orders that they were, on no account, to be disturbed.

“ Yes,” she had replied, with a sniff of disgust, “ I guess that ain’t so hard, to know where everything is. I know that, myself. It’s on the floor.”

Whereat the doctor had given one of his great laughs. But his books were not disturbed.

He settled himself in a great leathercovered easy chair by the table, got his feet up on another chair, — he was never comfortable until he had got his knees straightened out,— took up a big, longstemmed meerschaum pipe, and filled it from a yellow earthenware jar. Then he lighted it, sighed, and began looking over his medical papers and enveloping himself in a cloud of smoke.

At exactly half-past eight there was a knock at the door. The doctor grunted, and his housekeeper came in, bearing a bottle of beer and a glass. To her, the doctor’s head appeared above the back of the chair, surrounded by a green aureole of smoke. But that was quite usual; and so was her remark. She always said the same thing.

“ Here’s your beer, doctor. Mercy! How smoky it is! ” It was. The corners of the room could not be seen at all. “ I should think you’d die! ”

“ Shall, in time,” growled the doctor. “Not immortal. But I’ll manage to stand it for a while.”

She set the beer and the glass by the doctor’s hand. “ Well, if you can stand it, I can’t.”

“ Don’t have to,” growled the doctor again. “ Don’t have to. Thank you. Good-night.”

“ Good-night,” said the housekeeper; and the door closed softly behind her. She was not resentful of such shortness, any more than the Polar Bear was resentful of the slapping of the reins, or of the doctor’s absent-minded profanity. Indeed, she understood such shortness of speech very well. She was apt to be short of speech, herself. She thought better of the doctor for it.

When the housekeeper had gone, the doctor laid down his medical journals with evident relief.

“ There, damn it, that’s that,” he said.

And he reached over to a pile of books that were bound in full calf, and that showed signs of frequent use.

“ What to-night? ” he said, musingly. His hand hovered over the pile of books, while he read over the legends on their backs. Then he swooped for one of them. “ ‘Merry Wives ’ hits me to-night. Merry Wives! ” And he chuckled to himself as he got the heavy book into his lap and opened it.

Not until then did he open his beer; and, having got it open, he filled his pipe afresh and lighted it. Then, with a comfortable snuggle into his chair, he settled himself to read.

The doctor read until late — very late, for Old Harbor; but it was the only time in the twenty-four hours that he had for recreation. The sense of duty not done would creep in at any other time, and he was not to be grudged these few hours of pleasure. Indeed, the troublesome sense of duty left undone would creep in even at this time, apparently, for he would stop reading, now and then, rest his head against the back of his chair, and puff forth great clouds of smoke, while his eyes showed that he was troubled, and he frowned tremendously. Suddenly he would realize what he was doing, resolutely put away the thought which was bothering him, and turn to his reading again, with a sound in his throat that was between a grunt and a growl.

The doctor must have thought to some purpose, either in those unconscious pauses which he seemed to relish so little or in his sleep, for the next morning he walked to the barn with a boyish eagerness that sat well upon him. He found Sammy already hitched in the sleigh and evidently waiting for him. Sammy turned his head, as soon as he heard the familiar step, and looked at him solemnly; then, without waiting for the doctor, he backed carefully out of the barn and made the half turn so short that he nearly tipped the sleigh over.

“ Good-morning, Sammy! ” cried the doctor, when the sleigh had finally righted itself. “ Don’t you know that sleighs are n’t buggies? You’ll break my shafts if you are n’t more careful.”

Sammy looked rather sheepish. The doctor climbed in, wheezed a moment, then took up the reins. Sammy had not waited for him to do that, and he was already out of the yard.

The doctor chuckled. “ Damn it all, Sammy, what’s got into you? ” he said. “ Well, get along, you old skate — old ramshackle skate. We’ll settle her hash, won’t we, Sammy?” And he laughed.

Sammy seemed to know where the doctor was going. He did not offer to stop at any of the usual places, but made straight for the Houltons’, and drew up, with a jerk, at the gate. The doctor got out, chuckling again, and made his way around to the kitchen door. Mrs. Houlton was singing softly while she wiped the breakfast dishes. The doctor paused to listen for a minute, then he opened the door, without bothering to knock, and went in.

The singing stopped, and Mrs. Houlton looked up at him, smiling.

“ Good-morning, madam, good-morning,” said the doctor solemnly.

Mrs. Houlton laughed. “ Good-morning, sir, good-morning,”she said; but she did not stop wiping the dishes. “ Won’t you sit down, sir ? If I leave these dishes now, they will get cold, and that would be a waste of time. And then they might need your good offices, sir, which is imnecessary.”

“ You are pleased to be facetious, madam,” replied the doctor, seating himself in a generous rocker; but he did not rock. “I would offer to help with those dishes if I thought I should be a help.”

“ Why, thank you, doctor,” said Mrs. Houlton, “ but they are almost done. And why should n’t I be facetious, sir, as you express it, if I feel like it ? Would you have me mournful, sir? ”

“ Any way, any way,” muttered the doctor hastily, “ so long as I had you.” But it is to be supposed that Mrs. Houlton did not hear him, for she made no reply, but turned away.

There fell a silence, which promised to be long. “ The children are at school,” said Mrs. Houlton, at last, turning again. The silence, in her opinion, had lasted long enough. “ And Sophy, of course, has gone to the store. She has to get there before eight, you know.”

“ I don’t like Sophy’s being in that store,” growled the doctor. “ A store is no fit place — no fit place.”

“ I don’t like it, either,” said Mrs. Houlton, smiling; “ probably I dislike it even more than you do. But it seemed to be the only thing to do. It even struck me as providential.”

So the doctor had thought, at the time; but that was in the dark ages. The dishes were all wiped by this time, and Mrs. Houlton began putting them away. Doctor Olcott looked disturbed, but he said nothing for some minutes. He broke out suddenly, at last, as was his way.

“ Mrs. Houlton! ” he said. She was plainly startled.

“ Goodness gracious, doctor! ” she said. “ You’ll make me drop something if you speak so suddenly. Can’t you cough, or something, so that a person can know when it’s coming? ”

There was a rumbling sound in the doctor’s throat.

“Laughing at me again, madam?” he cried.

“ Laughing at you ? ” she asked, smiling. “ No, I wasn’t; but I shall, I’m afraid.”

“ Laugh, madam, laugh, if you want to,” growled the doctor. “ I would laugh, too, if I only knew what was funny.”

But Mrs. Houlton was not laughing. Now, doctor,” she began, “ I — ” She did not finish.

The doctor waited for her; waited for what seemed to him a suitable time. Well ? ” he said then. “ You were saying? — ”

“ Oh, nothing,” said Mrs. Houlton. “ Nothing of consequence. I have really forgotten what it was I started to say.”

Again there was the rumbling sound in the doctor’s throat. “ Mrs. Houlton,” he said, “ I am likely to have apoplexy at any minute if — ”

Mrs. Houlton stopped short, her arms full of dishes. “ Mercy, doctor! ” she cried. “ Not really! ” She was alarmed.

“ I was about to say,” Doctor Olcott continued, “ that I might have a stroke at any minute if you did n’t treat what I have to say with respect.” And the doctor smiled.

“Oh,” said Mrs. Houlton, smiling, too. She went on to the dining-room with her load of dishes.

“ Mrs. Houlton,” said the doctor, with some vehemence, as she returned, “ will you take a rest ? ” He was rocking violently; which was not what one would have expected of him. It was a sign of great perturbation of spirit.

Mrs. Houlton turned and faced him. “ Now, doctor, how can I ? I put it to you, Doctor Olcott, how can I — with these children ? ”

The doctor exploded. “ Damn it, Mrs. Houlton, I don’t know. Don’t ask me. That’s for you to manage. You’ll die if you don’t.”

“ And I’ll die if I do, Doctor Olcott.” She had a fine color. She was rather a handsome woman as she stood there, defying him.

“ But I order you to take a rest, Mrs. Houlton. I positively order it.”

And Mrs. Houlton only laughed.

The doctor was purple in the face. “Then I am to understand that you refuse to obey my orders — the positive orders of your doctor ? ”

She took up a platter to put it away. “ I certainly do, Doctor Olcott.”

“ Well, then, damn it, there’s no other way. Will you marry me, Mrs. Houlton ? ”

Mrs. Houlton must have been surprised. She certainly seemed to be; for she stopped very suddenly in her journey, went very white, and dropped the platter on the floor. Whereupon the platter did as any self-respecting and well-behaved platter should have done, and broke into pieces.

Mrs. Houlton stood leaning against the door-jamb, looking down at the pieces of the broken platter. There were a great many of them; far too many to think of putting them together.

“ There, doctor! ” she said, in a voice that was none too steady, although she strove to speak lightly. But a new platter of that size — even of the cheapest — would cost — it terrified her to think what it would cost. “There, doctor! See what you have made me do!”

“ Damn that platter! ” cried the doctor. “ Will you marry me, Mrs. Houlton ? ”

She smiled faintly. “ The platter is al ready damned,” she said; “ and I —I — ”

And, to the doctor’s astonishment, — for Mrs. Houlton had always seemed a particularly well-balanced woman, and he would not have expected it of her, — she covered her face with her hands and burst into tears. But the doctor was not displeased; not displeased nor disappointed, he found. He jumped to his feet, with an agility that was surprising, and went to her.

“ Now, what? ” he asked anxiously.

“It is very kind of you, doctor,” sobbed Mrs. Houlton, “ very kind, indeed. But there are the children — ”

“ Why, I love children,” cried the doctor, interrupting. “ I love every one of ’em. And I ’ll take Sophy out of that store at once, if you say so — if you give me leave. Sammy and I’ll go right down there and take her out now.”

“ But,” said Mrs. Houlton — her sobs had ceased, and she stood, looking down, with wet eyes — “ but — I know you’re asking me only to make it easy for me, and ” - the sobs broke out afresh — " and I — I can’t let you. I won’t be married in charity.” She flashed up at him, at that.

The doctor laughed happily. “ Well, then, I’m not,” he said. “ I may have fortified myself with that idea, but I’m not. If you could see my house! I’m probably the most selfish man in town — and the most tyrannized over. You know my housekeeper? Well, then! ”

Mrs. Houlton did know the doctor’s housekeeper. She smiled. “You, selfish! ” she said.

“ And the fact is,” continued the doctor, following up his advantage — although it is to his credit that he did not know it, “ the fact is, housekeeper or no housekeeper, I want you. I want you.”

Mrs. Houlton looked up at the doctor with a shy smile. “ Well, then,” she said softly. “ Well, then — ”

And they forgot the broken platter, and they forgot Sammy, who was waiting, as patiently as could be expected of a bored old white horse, for the doctor to come out. But the doctor was a long time in coming.