"To his home, of course," said the little doctor, turning his spectacles up to Mac. Then he got into his gig, whipped up, and took the lead.
Porter Knapp went across streets and got there first and was leaning over the stone gateway when the little doctor's gig drove up.
"Eh!" exclaimed Doctor Fisher, looking at him over his glasses. "Well, you have a pair of legs! Joel was right; he says you beat everything in running."
Porter looked much pleased and glanced down at his legs affectionately.
Then he remembered Larry and sobered at once.
Doctor Fisher, while going up the steps, said in passing:
"Larry'll pull through all right, I think."
"She's here," cried Porter suddenly. He had heard the words, but something had abruptly come in between, and he wildly dashed at the little doctor. Doctor Fisher turned around and saw, flourishing up to the gateway, a gay little runabout, and in it Larry's mother and sister.
"My goodness!" He was down by its side. And off in the distance, but coming surely and steadily on, was the coach bearing Larry to his home.
"Yes, yes, how do you do? Don't stop," cried the little doctor, waving his hand that was free from his bag of instruments; "go on to the stable."
"Oh, no, I'll stop here." Mrs. Keep had her foot on the step, and put out the hand not occupied with her flowing draperies. "Eleanor is going on to see a friend. Well, how do you do?"