"What did she say?" "Oh, she had her excuse.... Willy, I can't understand her mind; it is so unreasonably reasonable: 'Sister, you said you couldn't bear it, so what was the use of having it?' After all, that was sense, William." "So it was," said the doctor, and unhooked his reins and nodded. "Well," he said-- But Miss Harriet laughed awkwardly. "Wait a minute, can't you? It won't kill anybody to do without a pill for five minutes." "Well, no, I suppose it won't," William admitted; "but with a view to getting home in time for dinner--" "Oh, let Martha wait. Willy, you are the meekest being--let her wait. Tell her you'll have your dinner when you're good and ready." "Martha is only concerned on my own account," the loyal William protested. "Well, I'm not going to keep you long," his old friend said, roughly; "I--I just want to ask you a question." Her face grew suddenly a dull red. "Not that I believe in your pills and potions--just please remember that. But I suppose you do know a little something." "I could diagnose a scratched finger," said the doctor, meekly. "Well--" she said, and looked at the lock of her rifle; "there's nothing in the world the matter with me, but--" "You don't look like a confirmed invalid," the doctor assured her. "No!--do I?" she said, eagerly. "I really am very well, William--very well. Dear me, when I get home after a round of my traps (when Annie hasn't teased me by letting things out) and eat a good dinner, and sit down with a taxidermy magazine, I--I wouldn't thank King George to be my uncle. Yes, I am _very_ well." Her emphasis had in it a certain agitation that caught the doctor's eye. "Your out-of-door life is calculated to keep you well," he said. Miss Harriet got up and thrust the rabbit back into the pouch at her side. "Of course; and, anyhow, I'm not the sick kind. Imagine me shut up between four walls! I should be like Sterne's starling. Do you remember?--'I want to get out, I want to get out.' No, there's nothing the matter with me. Absolutely nothing." She did look very well, the big, brown woman, towering up at the road-side, with her rifle in her hand and the good color in her cheeks and lips. Yet her eyes had a worn look, William thought. "Pain somewhere," said the doctor to himself. "You know, I don't believe in your pills and truck," she insisted, frowning. "Of course not," he assured her easily. "Come, now, Miss Harriet, what's wrong?" "Nothing, I tell you," she said, sharply; and then, with impatient brevity, she spoke of some special discomfort which had annoyed her. "It began about six months ago." "Probably you've taken cold," William King said, and then he asked a question or two. She answered with irritable flippancy: "Now don't put on airs, Willy. There's no use trying to impress me; I know you. Remember, you were in my Sunday-school class."