"Yes. That's what you need—outdoors; that's what you need. You got a color like all indoors—pretty, but putty."
"You—you don't think there's nothing much the matter with me, do you,
Mr. Blaney?"
"Sure I don't. Why, I got a bunch of Don'ts for you up my sleeve that'll color you up like drug-store daub."
Tears and laughter trembled in her voice. "You mean that the outdoor stuff will do it, Mr. Blaney?"
"That's the talk!"
"But you—you ain't the doctor."
"I ain't, but I 'ain't been deaf and dumb and blind round here for three years. I can pick 'em every time. You're taking your stitch in time. You 'ain't even got a wheeze in you. Why, I bet you 'ain't never seen red!"
"No!" she cried, with quick comprehension.
"Sure you 'ain't!"
More tears and laughter in her voice. "I'm going to-night, then—at six,
Mr. Blaney."