"Miss Manvers must be a fair target for fortune-hunters, Long; are there any such in Trafton?"
"Wall, now, that's what some folks says, tho' I ain't goin' ter lay myself liable ter an action fer slander. There's lovers enough; it ain't easy tellin' jest what they air after. There's young Mr. Brookhouse; now, his pa's rich enough; he ain't no call to go fortin huntin'. There's a lawyer from G——, too, and a young 'Piscopal parson; then there's our new young doctor. I ain't hearn anyone say anythin' about him; but I've seen 'em together, and I makebold ter say that he's anuther on 'em. Seen the young doctor, ain't ye?" turning to me suddenly with the last question.
"Yes," I replied, carelessly; "he dines at the hotel."
"Just so, and keeps his own lodgin' house in that little smit on a cottage across the creek on the Brookhouse farm road."
"Oh, does he?"
"Yes. Queer place for a doctor, some think, but bless you, it's as central as any, when you come ter look. Trafton ain't got any heart, like most towns; you can't tell where the middle of it is. It's as crookid as—its reputation."
Not desiring to appear over anxious concerning the reputation of Trafton, I continued my queries about the doctor.
"He's new to Trafton, I think you said?"
"Yes, bran new; too new. We don't like new things, we don't; have to learn 'em afore we like 'em. We don't like the new doctor like we orter."