“Scotty has managed somehow to disarrange his bandages, Little Doctor,” said Captain Ranger; “and badly as our cattle need attention, you will be obliged to look after his case this evening. I know how punctilious your mother is over what she is pleased to call the proprieties, but you must attend the fellow professionally, whether she consents or not. “I do not want any more disagreeable encounters with my mother, Captain.” “Damn it! I beg your pardon, ma’am! But I’m sure God swore in His wrath under less provocation,—if there is any truth in Holy Writ. These are no times for conventional hair-splittings. You are in duty bound to visit Scotty as his physician. I will accompany you if it will help you out.” “I shall be glad indeed of your company, Captain. But women are not supposed to be doctors. We’ve always been taught to look upon the profession as one beyond our comprehension.” “And indeed it is beyond your comprehension. Men do not comprehend it any more than you do. If they did, it would long ago have been developed into a science, instead of what it is,—empiricism. I’m afraid I’ll swear again if I hear any more nonsense about the things women are not supposed to know because they are women.” “Are you ready to accompany me now, Captain?” “I’ll have to be. But our lunch is ready; and, by my beans and bacon, I must have something to eat first! There! I didn’t mean to swear. It was a sort of slip of the tongue.” “I am free to admit that it isn’t polite to swear, Captain. But you didn’t take the name of God in vain; so you are forgiven. You will grant that swearing, even by beans and bacon, is a bad habit, though. Don’t set a bad example before the children, to say nothing of the rest of us,” she added, laughing. They found the patient in a high fever. “It is his impatience that does it,” said Mrs. Benson. “He fumes like a madman sometimes.” Mrs. McAlpin deftly unbound, dressed, and rebandaged the unfortunate limb. “We’re doing nicely,” she said, when her work was finished. “You mustn’t fret yourself into a fever again. A sick man should be as serene as a May morning.” “How in the name o’ Melchizedek and the Twelve Apostles is a man going to keep cool when the thermometer is raging in the nineties, and one’s self-elected nurse is scolding like a sitting hen? If she’d ride in the other wagon and leave you to do the nursing, I’d stand a chance to recover.” “Mamma is getting on famously,” laughed the Little Doctor. “You are so amiable and sweet-tempered yourself that I can’t see why she doesn’t fall down before your injured foot and worship you. I feel almost tempted to try it myself. You don’t think she is enduring all this for fun, do you?” “I suppose I haven’t been acting the angel; but it was because I wanted the society of my doctor.” “You allude to Mrs. McAlpin, of course,” said the Captain, smiling.