"The Emporium," answered the girl, naming the great and still fashionable downtown department store, half a mile to the westward. "You ought to quit. As soon as possible." "And spoil my delicate digestion?" "Who said anything about your digestion?" "I did. If I quit workin', I quit eatin'. And that's bad for me. I tried it once." "I see," said the Little Red Doctor, recognizing a condition by no means unprecedented in local practice. "Couldn't you get a job in some better climate?" "Where, for instance?" "Well, if you knew any one in California." "How's the walkin'?" asked Mayme. "It's long," replied the Little Red Doctor, "seeing" again. "Anyway, you've got to have fresh air." "They serve it fresh, every morning, right here in Our Square," Mayme pointed out. "Good idea. Get up early and fill your lungs full of it for an hour every day." He gave some further instructions. Mayme produced a dollar, and delicately placed it on the mantel. "Take it away," said the Little Red Doctor. "Didn't I tell you--" "Go-wan!" said Mayme. "Whadda you think you are; Bellevue Hospital? I pay as I go, Doc." The Little Red Doctor frowned austerely. "What's the matter? Face hurt you?" asked the solicitous Mayme. "People don't call me 'Doc,'" began the offended practitioner in dignified tones. "Oh, that's because they ain't on to you," she assured him. "I wouldn't call you 'Doc' myself if I didn't know you was a good sport back of your bluff." The Little Red Doctor grinned, looking first at Mayme and then at the dollar. "You aren't such a bad sport yourself," he admitted. "Well, we'll call this a deal. But if I see you in the Square and give you a tip about yourself now and again, that doesn't count. That's on the side. Understand?" She considered it gravely. "All right," she agreed at length. "Between pals, yes? Shake, Doc." So began the quaint friendship between our hard-worked, bluff, knightly-hearted practitioner, and the impish and lovable little store-girl. Also another of the innumerable tilts between him and his old friend, Death. "He's got the jump on me, Dominie," complained the Little Red Doctor to me. "But, at that, we're going to give him a fight. She's clear grit, that youngster is. She's got a philosophy of life, too. I don't know where she got it, or just what it is, but it's there. Oh, she's worth saving, Dominie." "If I hadn't reason to think you safeguarded, my young friend," said I, "I'd give you solemn warning." "Why, she's an infant!" returned the Little Red Doctor scornfully. "A poor, little, monkey-faced child. Besides--" He stopped and sighed.