After a little he said, “I didn't mean to be cross, Mary, but I didn't want you to drink there.”
“You should have warned me beforehand, then,” she said chillingly.
“I couldn't sit in the buggy and divine there was typhoid fever there,” she continued. “‘A woman's intuitions are safe guides’ but she has to have something to go on before she can have intuitions.”
“Hadn't you better put your ulster on, dear?” inquired the doctor in such meaning tones, that Mary turned quickly and looked off across the fields. A Black-eyed Susan by the roadside caught the smile in her eyes and nodded its yellow head and smiled mischievously back at her. It was a feminine flower and they understood each other.
When they had driven three or four miles Mary asked the doctor if there was any typhoid fever in the house they were approaching.
“How do I know?”
“I thought you might be able to divine whether there is or not.”
“We'll suppose there isn't. We'll stop and get a drink,” he answered indulgently. They stopped, Mary took the reins and the doctor went to reconnoiter.
“Nobody at home and not a vessel of any kind in sight,” he announced coming back. Of course her thirst was now raging.
“Maybe there's a gourd hanging inside the curb. If there is do break it loose and bring it to me heaping full.”