On a hot July morning Mrs. Holt was sweeping the front porch when a forlorn specimen of humanity came shuffling up the front walk and asked to see Dr. Holt. Mrs. Holt took him into the office and ran to the garden to tell George his first patient had come. His face had been flushed from pulling weeds, but it paled perceptibly as he started to the back porch to wash his hands. "Do you know who it is, Mother?" he asked. "It's that old Peter Mines," she said, "an' he looks fit to drop." "Peter Mines!" said George. "He's had about fifty things the matter with him for about fifty years." "Then you're a made man if you can even make him think he feels enough better so's he'll go round talking about it," said Mrs. Holt, shrewdly. George stood with his hands dripping water an instant, thinking deeply. "Well said for once, old lady," he agreed. "You are just exactly right." He hurried to his room, and put on his coat. "A patient that will be a big boom for me," he boasted to Kate as he went down the hall. Mrs. Holt stood listening at the hall door. Kate walked around the dining room, trying to occupy herself. Presently cringing groans began to come from the room, mingling with George's deep voice explaining, and trying to encourage the man. Then came a wild shriek and then silence. Kate hurried out to the back walk and began pacing up and down in the sunshine. She did not know it, but she was praying. A minute later George's pallid face appeared at the back door: "You come in here quick and help me," he demanded. "What's the matter?" asked Kate. "He's fainted. His heart, I think. He's got everything that ever ailed a man!" he said. "Oh, George, you shouldn't have touched him," said Kate. "Can't you see it will make me, if I can help him! Even Mother could see that," he cried. "But if his heart is bad, the risk of massaging him is awful," said Kate as she hurried after George. Kate looked at the man on the table, ran her hand over the heart region, and lifted terrified eyes to George. "Do you think--?" he stammered. "Sure of it!" she said, "but we can try. Bring your camphor bottle, and some water," she cried to Mrs. Holt. For a few minutes, they worked frantically. Then Kate stepped back. "I'm scared, and I don't care who knows it," she said. "I'm going after Dr. James." "No, you are not!" cried George. "You just hold yourself. I'll have him out in a minute. Begin at his feet and rub the blood up to his heart." "They are swollen to a puff, he's got no circulation," said Kate. "Oh, George, how could you ever hope to do anything for a man in this shape, with MUSCULAR treatment?" "You keep still and rub, for God's sake," he cried, frantically. "Can't you see that I am ruined if he dies on this table?" "No, I can't," said Kate. "Everybody would know that he was practically dying when he came here. Nobody will blame you, only, you never should have touched him! George, I AM going after Dr. James."