"Wal, if you want to know I can give it ter you--a reg'lar tonic to be taken daily in big doses. It's old-fashioned, mebbe, but genu_ine_," he said with so comical an emphasis and inflection that we laughed. "It can't be beat, you 'll see. Take equal parts of dry clean air, so bracin' thet sometimes a man feels as if he was walkin' on it, good food and plenty of it, good comp'ny. Shake 'em well together to get out the lumps, and mix well in--a good home. I take it thet's about it, Doctor?" "Cale, you old Hippocrates," said the Doctor, delighted at Cale's gift of speech, for he had heard him discourse only on "hosses" when he was with us the first time, "you 'd be worth three thousand dollars a year to me as consulting hygienist. Do you want the job?" "No." He spoke decidedly. "This job 's good enough fer me. I hope 't will be for life now." "Ewart's colors again, eh, Jamie?" He turned to Jamie with a lift of his eyebrows. "Winning all along the course, Doctor." "How do you know all that, Cale?" The Doctor dropped his chaffing and looked over earnestly at Cale beside the chimney-piece. "Know what?" "The fact that those special ingredients must be mixed in a good home to prove so effectual as in Marcia's case?" He turned to examine me. "How do I know it?" He spoke slowly, almost with hesitation, and beneath his bushy eyebrows I thought I saw a suspicious glitter in his small keen gray eyes, but it may have been imagination. "I have n't always been a lonely man, you know--" "That's just what I don't know, Cale." The Doctor spoke with the encouragement of good fellowship, not as one willing or wanting to ask his confidence, but as one hoping in friendship to receive it. I am sure we all felt with the Doctor at this moment, for Cale's reticence had been a matter of concern to Jamie and Mrs. Macleod. But Jamie had respected his silence. Cale set his emptied bowl on the tray and sat down again, making himself comfortable by crossing his legs. He heaved a sigh of satisfaction. Mrs. Macleod, Jamie and I read that sign; Cale was ready to expand a little more in the cheerful atmosphere of friends and fireside. We three knew that what he had to retail would be well worth hearing. Jamie settled himself in the sofa corner as usual. The Doctor insisted on carrying the tray to the kitchen. "Ah, this is good," he said, seating himself by me and spreading his hands to the blaze. "We shan't be interrupted, and the rest of the evening is ours. It's a bitter night, too, which, by contrast, makes this comfort delectable." We waited, expectant, for Cale. "You 've been wonderin' now fer 'bout six months, Mis' Macleod, you an' Jamie, whether I was a married man or not, now, hain't you?" He smiled as he spoke, the creases about his eyes deepening slowly. Mrs. Macleod, with an embarrassment we all enjoyed seeing, moved to a seat beside him; saying gently, if deprecatingly: "Yes, I could n't help it, Cale."