"Quite sure, sir—if it was anything about her which ought not to have said."
"Don't know that it was," said the doctor; "it's well enough sometimes to set people right when they are wrong—what I say is, that ladies don't always thank one for it."
Reuben flushed a little.
"You don't know me, Dr. Harrison," he said—"I can't expect you to take my word; but I have nothing to add to it."
"And I have nothing to add to mine," said the doctor lightly. "I heard you quoted—that's all; I supposed you would know what for."
"Who did you hear, sir?"
"Don't know, really," said the doctor—"only he was a rude fellow—if you can tell one by such a description among your mates, it was he."
And the doctor strolled away.
Reuben on his part seemed to recognize the description, for taking a sort of intuitive bee-line through people and trees, he suddenly brought up with the question,
"Phil Davids, what have you been saying about me?"