Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci, Joshua Hutchinson and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. [Illustration: Doctor Gordon * * * had not even taken off his overcoat, which was white with snow. Page 104.] "Doc." Gordon By MARY E. WILKINS-FREEMAN Author of "_The Debtor," "A Humble Romance," "The Heart's Highway," "Pembroke," Etc._ Illustrated in Water-Colors by FRANK T. MERRILL Copyright, 1906, by Mary E. Wilkins-Freeman H.L. MOORE SPECIAL EDITION, For Sale exclusively by us in Rahway, N.J. NEW YORK AND LONDON THE AUTHORS AND NEWSPAPERS ASSOCIATION 1906 COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY MARY E. WILKINS-FREEMAN. _Entered at Stationers' Hall. All rights reserved_. Composition and Electrotyping by J.J. Little & Co. Printed and bound by Manhattan Press, New York. [Illustration: (FACSIMILE PAGE OF MANUSCRIPT FROM DOC. GORDON)] "DOC." GORDON CHAPTER I It was very early in the morning, it was scarcely dawn, when the young man started upon a walk of twenty-five miles to reach Alton, where he was to be assistant to the one physician in the place, Doctor Thomas Gordon, or as he was familiarly called, "Doc." Gordon. The young man's name was James Elliot. He had just graduated, and this was to be his first experience in the practice of his profession of medicine. He was in his twenties. He was small, but from the springiness of his gait and the erectness of his head he gave an impression of height. He was very good-looking, with clearly-cut features, and dark eyes, in which shone, like black diamonds, sparks of mischief. They were honest eyes, too. The young fellow was still sowing his wild oats, but more with his hands than with his soul. He was walking because of a great amount of restless energy; he fairly revelled in stretching his legs over the country road in the keen morning air. The train service between Gresham, his home place, and Alton was very bad, necessitating two changes and waits of hours, and he had fretted at the prospect. When a young man is about to begin his career, he does not wish to sit hours in dingy little railroad stations on his way toward it. It was much easier, and pleasanter, to walk, almost run to it, as he was doing now. His only baggage was his little medicine-case; his trunk had gone by train the day before. He was very well dressed, his clothes had the cut of a city tailor. He was almost dandified. His father was well-to-do: a successful peach-grower on a wholesale scale. His great farm was sprayed over every spring with delicate rosy garlands of peach blossoms, and in the autumn the trees were heavy with the almond-scented fruit. He had made a fortune, and aside from that had achieved a certain local distinction. He was then mayor of Gresham, which had a city government. James was very proud of his father and fond of him. Indeed, he had reason to be. His father had done everything in his power for him, given him a good education, and supplied him liberally with money.