"No-o," contemptuously. "I met him in the square. He sells vi'lets. I reckon that's why I fought his grandfather had flowers—yaller jander flowers.—Is bronicles flowers?"
"I never heard of them."
"Oh, dear, I s'pect that's another disease. You see it fooled me to see Bill selling vi'lets. I kind of fought he had a big garden full, or his grandfather had. He said his grandfather used to go out selling flowers till sumfing got the matter with his bronicles, and they couldn't stand the east wind."
The doctor laughed so heartily that Elinor looked quite aggrieved.
"I'll not tell you any more," she said, "if you make fun of me, and I was going to tell you lots."
"Oh, please pardon my laughter. I'll try not to be so silly again. You see, I sometimes laugh at nothing at all. It is a habit I have formed from living alone."
Elinor looked at him very soberly. She wasn't quite sure whether this was earnest or not, but his being alone seemed a sufficient excuse, and, moreover, appealed to her sympathies, so she took hold of one of her friend's big fingers, and held it confidingly.
"Tell me truly," she said, "do you believe in Santa Claus?"
"Most certainly. I think he is the greatest invention of any age."
"Oh, good! That sounds so certain sure. That's what Connie says. I didn't make it up. I did make up sumfing once."