After a hurried breakfast, husband and wife went together to the store, and found Caleb awaiting them at the back door. He had already seen Grace's figure at the window of the sitting room.
"Je—ru—salem!" he exclaimed, looking intently at Grace. "I never saw a worse shake than yourn, which is sayin' a mighty lot, considerin' I was born an' raised in the West. But you look just as good as new. Well, there's somethin' good in ev'rythin', if you look far enough for it—even in an ager-chill."
"Good in a chill, indeed!" Philip exclaimed.
"Yes; its good p'int is that it don't last long. Havin' a chill's like bein' converted; if somethin' didn't shut down on the excitement pretty quick, there'd be nothin' left o' the subject. Well, seein' you're here, I reckon I'd better take a look in the pork-house."
"He has sprinkled the floor with Florida water!" said Grace, as she entered the store. "Evidently he didn't doubt that I'd be well this morning, and he remembers yesterday."
Within an hour Doctor Taggess and his wife bustled into the store, and Mrs. Taggess hurried to Grace, and said:—
"I'd have come to you yesterday, my dear, if I hadn't known I could be of no use. Chills are like cyclones; they'll have their own way while they last, and everything put in their way makes them more troublesome."
The Doctor consulted Philip, apart, as to what had been done, approved of Caleb's treatment, and gave additional directions; then he turned upon Grace his kind eyes and pleasant smile, which Caleb had rightly intimated were his best medicines, and he said:—
"Well, has Doctor Caleb found time to give you his favorite theory, which is that a chill or any other malarial product is a means of grace?"