"Ah, good morning," said the doctor, briskly. "Who's under the weather now?"
"Wa'al," drawled the supervisor, "nobody, I reckon 'less its you. Here's a little bill I'm sorry to have to bring to you, but its had to be done."
The doctor took the paper from the Supervisor's hand and read as follows:
"Dr. Andrew Wittingham to town of Doveton, Dr. One-half cost of replacing Second Brook Bridge, $11.62."
"What on earth does this mean?" exclaimed the doctor after reading the bill several times.
"Bolton has paid the other half," said the supervisor; "its for that bridge that Jack and Matt hooked, you know, and left in the middle of Prewitt's corn field half a mile from where it belonged."
"Hooked a bridge?" exclaimed the doctor, "I don't understand. Jack never said anything to me about it."
"Didn't he?" asked the supervisor with an ironical grin. "Wa'al, like enough he didn't; 'twas during the June freshet, you know, an' the boys found it loose, an' went raftin' around on it. Like enough they'd have fetched it back, but they rammed it through one fence after another, an' at last they got it aground. We tried to get it under a log wagon an' haul it back, but 'twas no go, an' we havn't put the hire of the wagon into the bill, for the man wasn't to charge anything if he didn't get it through. Shouldn't wonder, though, if Prewitt brought in a bill for damages, he says it'll do him out of twenty hills of corn, besides being a nuisance to plough around. An' he and the next man are out about a dozen fence rails each."
The doctor recognized the inevitable, yet remarked that the price seemed a large one for a bridge in a country where lumber was so cheap.
"Just what it cost," remarked the supervisor, "the whole thing came to $23.25, an' in dividin' I threw the odd cent on to Bolton, for I think the medical profession ought to be encouraged."