“That is a queer-looking house,” said Mary. “It has no front door at all.”
“No side door, neither. When a feller wants to get in that house there's just one of three ways: he has to go around and through the kitchen, or through a winder, or down the chimney.”
“If he was little enough he might go through the cat-hole,” suggested the young man, at which they all laughed.
“And what may that be?” asked the mystified Mary.
“It's a square hole cut in the bottom of the door for the cat to go in and out at. The man that owns the place said he believed in having things handy.”
“Now, let me see your throat,” said the doctor. The patient opened her mouth to such an amazing extent that the doctor said, “No, I will stand on the outside!” which made Mary ashamed of him, but the old couple laughed heartily. They had known this doctor a good many years.
“What have you been doing to stop the bleeding?” he asked.
“I've been a-tryin' charms and conjurin', mostly.”
Mary saw that there was no smile on her face or on any other face in the room. She spoke in a sincere and matter-of-fact way. “Old Uncle Peter, down here a piece, has cured many a case of nose-bleed but he hain't 'peared to help mine.”
“How does he go about it?” asked Mary.