“Not a bit.”
“Pa's gone and I didn't 'low to git any dinner today.”
At this announcement Mary heard something between a sigh and a groan and turning, saw a rosy-cheeked boy in the doorway. There was a look of resigned despair on his face and Mary smiled sympathetically at him as she went out. How many lads and lassies could have sympathized with him too, having been victims to that widespread feeling among housewives that when “Pa” is gone no dinner need be got and sometimes not much supper.
As the doctor and his wife started down the walk they heard a voice say, “Ma, don't you ever send for that smart-aleck doctor agin. I won't have him.” The doctor shook with laughter as he untied the horse.
“They won't need to send for me ‘agin.’ I like to get hold of a fine case of hysterics once in a while—it makes things lively.”
“The treatment you prescribed was certainly heroic enough,” said Mary.
They had driven about a mile, when, in passing a house a young man signaled the doctor to stop. “Mother has been bleeding at the nose a good deal,” he said, coming down to the gate. “I wish you would stop and see her. She'll be glad to see you, too, Mrs. Blank.”
They were met at the door by a little old woman in a rather short dress and in rather large ear-rings. Her husband, two grown daughters and three children sat and stood in the room.
“So you've been bleeding at the nose, Mrs. Haig?” said the doctor, looking at his patient who now sat down.
“Yes, sir, and it's a-gittin' me down. I've been in bed part of the day.”