"Now friend Dodge, in my place what would you have done?" The good Doctor's eye had a curious twinkle in it.
"I should have put the hundred dollars in the bank again, and sent my bill to the father of the child who was hurt."
"Just what I did," exclaimed the good man, his face fairly shining. "Crawson has his three hundred in the county bank all secure, and I've brought my little account of attendance to you. I've had a good deal of pay out of the job already one way and another. Remember that when you look it over, and don't grumble at the amount."
"That I'm sure I shall not do," said Mr. Dodge. "You have been the means under God of raising my dear Jimmy from the borders of the grave. If you'll wait a minute I'll cash it at once."
"No! oh, no! I can't be bothered with money to-day. I must be off to see widow Stephens' sprained ancle. Good morning, sir."
When he was out of sight, Mr. Dodge looked at the bill. The paper was only a receipt in full for medicine and medical attendance up to the present date.
It was no wonder that he went into the house rather excited. The conversation had taken place while the Doctor sat in his buggy, and the farmer stood near his barn.
Jimmy was sitting up in bed with a napkin pinned around his neck, his eyes looking unnaturally large on account of his thin cheeks, but otherwise better than he had done since the accident.
"Oh, this does taste so good, father!" exclaimed the boy smacking his lips with a keen relish. "Toasted bread and pure cream, no fooling!"
"I think he gains strength every day on this diet," said his mother laughing; "but what has happened?" noticing her husband's flushed face.