"Oh, they's more ways to work women than men, that's all," the doctor replied. "They're more interested in their symptoms, and they like to talk about 'em. Then, again, they's a more variety of complaints to choose from. I don't say I ain't had some pretty cases in my day."
"Say!" Madam Spoll interposed. "Who's having a circle to-night—Mayhew?"
"Let's see—it's Friday, ain't it? Yes, Mayhew and Sadie Crum," Vixley replied.
"Well, I s'pose we got to put 'em wise about Payson," said the Madam. "He's got the bug now and he's pretty sure to make the rounds."
"Can't we keep him dark?" said Vixley. "He's our game and they might possibly ring him in."
"No, that won't do," she answered emphatically. "We got to play fair. They've always been square with us, and they won't catch him, I'll see to that. Mayhew's straight enough and if Sadie tries to get gay with us, we can fix her and she knows it. And the more easy tests he gets, the better for us. It'll keep him going, and so long as they don't go too far, it'll help us. The sooner he gets so he don't want to impose test conditions, the better, and they can help convert him for us. I'll ring up Mayhew now. I've got a good hunch that Payson will show up there to-night."
She raised her bulk from the couch and went to the telephone by the window, calling for Mayhew's number. When she had got it, she said:
"Is this number thirty-one? ... Yes, I'm number fifteen.... Sure! Oh, pretty good! ... I got a tip for you. I'm playing a six-year-old for the handicap, named Oliver. Carries sixty pounds, colors blue and gray, ten hands, jockey is Payson. He's a ten-to-one shot. My wife Grace lived in Stockton. Do what you can for me, but keep your hands off, do you understand? Numbers forty and thirteen are with me in this deal and we'll fix it for you if you stand in ... yes, all right! If he shows up let me know to-morrow morning, sure."
She turned to the two men. "I guess that's all right now."
"What's all that about Stockton?" Vixley asked.