“Well, what do you think of It?” I felt like asking, but probably inquired in my politest professional manner what I could do for him. He told me about his wife. I made an appointment for an examination, and shortly after she came. The little woman, between fifty and sixty, was suffering from a long-standing cancer. I hated to tell her the truth; she caught eagerly at the slightest hope. There was but little to expect at that advanced stage from an operation, and I told her so, but she wanted the benefit of that little; so Dr. Wyeth and I operated, and for a time she was more comfortable; but later her symptoms became distressing; yet how she clung to life, even to the last! One day, toward the end, her husband came for me to go out to their home and see her--one of the queerest drives I ever took. The man appeared elated, though from his report of her symptoms her death seemed imminent. I had told him that there was probably little that I could do if I went to see her, and he had seemed divided between pleasure at my going and miserliness at having to pay for the visit. While I was getting instruments and dressings ready, he looked about the office in undisguised interest and curiosity, commenting naïvely on what must have been the cost of various things; asking if I had a big practice; what I did when I had to go out at night; if I didn’t sometimes wish I had a man to help me; and if I wasn’t lonesome in the evening. When we stepped into his buggy, he started up his fine horses with a flourish, proud to show them off. I must have spoken approvingly of them, for he said, “_You_ like to ride fast, don’t you? So do I. _She_ don’t; she says it hurts her.” Passing some children along the country road, when I waved a greeting to them, he observed, “_You_ like children? So do I. _She_ don’t--never could bear to have them around.” I found the poor woman near the end, and told him it could be a question of only a few days at the most. His comments on the way had prepared me for his callousness at this news, but not for what followed. Instead of driving me right back, as I wished, he insisted on showing me all about the house and barns, and even out to the hill-meadow, where he had a fine view of the city. He acted like a boy. As we stood on the hill-top, he expatiated on the extent and value of his farm; on his stock and barns; on the improvements he meant to make; all of which was tiresome to me; but he finally arrested my attention by the remark. “See what a fine place this would be for a doctor to live; she could come out here after office hours, and could drive into the city in no time with horses like mine.”