"If a man takes a drug, he is cured by substituting something else for a while until he learns to do without it."
"What would you substitute for—my drug?"
"I'll have to think about it. May I come again and tell you?"
"Of course. I am dying to know."
Mrs. Flippin entered just then with a tall pitcher of lemonade and a plate of delicate cakes. "I think Miss MacVeigh is looking mighty fine," she said; "don't you, Major?"
He would not have dared to tell how fine she looked to him.
He limped across the room with the plate of cakes, and poured lemonade into a glass for Madge. Her eyes followed his strong soldierly figure. What a man he must have been before the war crippled him. What a man he was still, and his strength was not merely that of body. She felt the strength too of mind and soul.
"I think," said Mrs. Flippin that night, "that Major Prime is one of the nicest men."
Madge was in bed. The nurse had made her ready for the night, and was out on the porch with Mr. Flippin. Mrs. Flippin had fallen into the habit of having a little nightly talk with Madge.
She missed her daughter, and Madge was pleasant and friendly.