"That’s it, now," said the medicine-vender; "but if it had been taken at the start and rubbed vigorously night and morning, it would have melted away under this fluid like dirt under lye-soap and warm water. Madam, a cancer is nothing more nor less than bad circulation at a certain point where blood stands till it becomes foul and putrefies. I can—excuse me if I seem bold, but long experience in handling men and women has learnt me to understand human nature. Most people who are afraid they’ve got cancers generally show it on their faces, an’ I’ll bet my hat and walk bareheaded to the nighest store to get another that you are troubled on that line—a little bit, anyway." Jane made no denial, though her thin face worked as she strove adequately to meet his blunt assertion. "As I said just now"—she swallowed, and avoided his covetous glance—"how is a person really to _know_?" "It’s a mighty easy matter for _me_ to tell," said the peddler, and he spoke most reassuringly. "Just you let me take a look at the spot, if it’s no trouble to you, and I may save you a good many sleepless nights. You are a nervous, broody sort of a woman yourself, and I can see by your face that you’ve let this matter bother you a lots." "You think you could tell if you—you looked at it?" Jane asked, tremulously. "Well, if I didn’t it would be the first case I ever diagnosed improperly. Couldn’t we go in the house?" Jane hesitated. "I think I’d rather my folks didn’t know—that is, of course, if it _is_ one. My brother-in-law is a great hand to talk, and I’d rather it wasn’t noised about. If there’s one thing in the world I don’t like it’s the pity and the curiosity of other folks as to just about how long I’m going to hold out." "I’ve seed a lots o’ folks like you." The peddler smiled. "But, if you don’t mind tellin’, where’s the thing located?" "It’s on my breast," Jane gulped, undecidedly, and then, the first bridge having been crossed, she unbuttoned her dress at the neck with fumbling fingers and pulled it down. "Maybe you can see as well here as anywhere." "Oh yes, never was a better light for the business," said the vender, and he leaned forward, his eyes fixed sharply on the spot exposed between the widow’s bony fingers. For a moment he said nothing. The woman’s yellow breast lay flat and motionless. She scarcely breathed; her features were fixed by grim, fearful expectancy. He looked away from her, and then stooped to his pack to get a larger bottle. "I’m glad I happened to strike you just when I did, madam," he said. "Thar ain’t no mistaking the charactericstics of a cancer when it’s in its first stages. That’s certainly what you’ve got, but I’m telling you God’s holy truth when I say that by regular application and rubbing this stuff in for a month, night and morning, that thing will melt away like mist before a hot sun." "So it really _is_ one!" Jane breathed, despondently.