"Did I call myself a doctor? I am a reformed doctor, madam. It is some years since I got out. But I thought, in a very urgent case—fits, you know, or something like that—Thank you, I won't sit down. My work calls me."
Miss Theodosia inclined her head politely, but curiosity seized her. How curious she was getting about many things!
"I wish I knew—" she began.
"Yes, madam?"
"What work 'calls' reformed doctors. After they are—out."
The stranger's big, unharnessed laugh was almost startling to Miss Theodosia. Why? She had never heard just such a big, unharnessed laugh before. She had heard a big harnessed laugh—when? Before she could answer her own thought, or the stranger could answer her spoken query, a hurry of small feet sounded. Only Evangeline's feet could break speed limits like that.
"Oh, Miss Theodosia—oh, I don't want to int'rupt, but just soon's he's gone—"
"He's gone," sighed Miss Theodosia, as the child came up. "You mustn't interrupt again, that way, unless it's a very urgent case—fits or something." In spite of proper vexation, she smiled. "Who was that man, Evangeline, that just went away?"
"Oh, I don't know—I wasn't acquainted with his back; that's every speck o' him I saw. Oh! oh! oh!"
"Evangeline Flagg, what is the matter now?"