But Sam shuffled and shuffled, looked every way but at Ellen or Mrs. Forbes, and "didn' know."
"Well, then," said Mrs. Forbes, turning to Ellen, "I don' know but you might about as well go down to the post-office; but, if I was you, I'd just get Dr. Marshchalk instead. He's a smarter man than Dr. Gibson any day in the year; and he ain't quite so awful high neither, and that's something. I'd get Dr. Marshchalk; they say there ain't the like o' him in the country for settin' bones; it's quite a gift; he takes to it natural like."
But Ellen said Mr. Van Brunt wanted Dr. Gibson, and if she could she must find him.
"Well," said Mrs. Forbes, "every one has their fancies; I wouldn't let Dr. Gibson come near me with a pair of tongs; but anyhow, if you must have him, your best way is to go right straight down to the post-office, and ask for him there, maybe you'll catch him."
"Thank you, Ma'am," said Ellen; "where is the post-office?"
"It's that white-faced house down street," said the landlady, pointing with her finger where Ellen saw no lack of white- faced houses; "you see that big red store, with the man standing out in front? the next white house below that is Mis' Perriman's; just run right in and ask for Dr. Gibson. Good-bye, dear I'm real sorry you can't come in that first white house."
Glad to get free, Ellen rode smartly down to the post-office. Nobody before the door; there was nothing for it but to get off here and go in; she did not know the people either. "Never mind, wait for me a minute, dear Brownie, like a good little horse as you are!"
No fear of the Brownie. He stood as if he did not mean to budge again in a century. At first going in, Ellen saw nobody in the post-office; presently, at an opening in a kind of boxed-up place in one corner, a face looked out and asked what she wanted.
"Is Dr. Gibson here?"
"No," said the owner of the face, with a disagreeable kind of smile.