Hiram caught up the pitcher and went out to the pump. When he returned Miss Pringle had been examining the sick man's chest. She straightened up and looked back over her shoulder at Hiram. The grin with which she favored him was the most beautiful smile the young fellow had ever beheld.
"Men certainly are helpless creatures," she said, breaking into a chuckle. "Though I will say you're better than most, Hiram Strong. Put out that lamp. Don't let it shine in his eyes. He wants to be in the dark as much as possible. He's developing as fine a case of measles as I ever saw and that's a fact!"
Relieved? Hiram Strong could have readily and heartily given three cheers.
"I—I've had the measles, Miss Pringle," he said warmly. "How glad I am you came over. I'm not afraid of measles."
"I should hope not! Though I guess this fellow's got 'em pretty hard. It is sometimes serious with folks as old as he is. But we'll pull him through, Hiram—you and me together," she added with her old-time smirk.
But she could not disturb Hiram's equanimity now.
"You are a friend in need, Miss Pringle," he said.
"I should hope so! Those are the only friends to have—especially in the country. We all need to help each other out here on the farms."
"We'll get a doctor for him," said Hiram, promptly. "I'll pay the fee."
"You'll spend your money in no such foolish way," declared Miss Pringle, energetically. "I'd be ashamed to have the neighbors know I sent for Dr. Marble for a case of measles.