"Men certainly are helpless creatures," she said, breaking into a chuckle. "Though I will say you're better than most, Hiram Strong. Put out that lamp. Don't let it shine in his eyes. He wants to be in the dark as much as possible. He's developing as fine a case of measles as I ever saw and that's a fact!" Relieved? Hiram Strong could have readily and heartily given three cheers. "I--I've had the measles, Miss Pringle," he said warmly. "How glad I am you came over. I'm not afraid of measles." "I should hope not! Though I guess this fellow's got 'em pretty hard. It is sometimes serious with folks as old as he is. But we'll pull him through, Hiram--you and me together," she added with her old-time smirk. But she could not disturb Hiram's equanimity now. "You are a friend in need, Miss Pringle," he said. "I should hope so! Those are the only friends to have--especially in the country. We all need to help each other out here on the farms." "We'll get a doctor for him," said Hiram, promptly. "I'll pay the fee." "You'll spend your money in no such foolish way," declared Miss Pringle, energetically. "I'd be ashamed to have the neighbors know I sent for Dr. Marble for a case of measles. "You've treated this poor fellow all right, Hiram, as far as you've gone. After breakfast I'll come back with some medicine I've got to reduce his fever. You'll have enough to do around here daytimes tending to your work. I'll do the nursing for the poor fellow during the day if you'll look after him at night." "My goodness!" said Hiram, with fervor, "I'll do all I can. It is a relief to know it isn't smallpox." "You musn't neglect your work," Miss Pringle said, as they both came out of the house again. "You've got some men coming, haven't you?" "In a day or two." "That Ad Banks was around yesterday, wasn't he? I guess he's after a job with you, after all, even if you are a mite young for a boss," and she chuckled. "I did not see him." "That so? I saw him hanging about the barn and smoking that old pipe of his." "He can't get into the barn very easily. The doors are all locked," said Hiram. Then, suddenly remembering the pipe he had found, he drew it from his pocket. "Could this be Adam Banks' pipe?" he asked. "Guess it could--and it is," said Miss Pringle promptly, sniffing at the odorous pipe. "I'd know that old thing anywhere. It's Ad Banks'. Where'd you find it?" "Where it had no business to be. Inside one of the sheds. Funny it should have been down there, too. I thought it belonged to this Orrin Post. I wonder what that Banks fellow was doing down there?" Miss Pringle bustled away and Hiram set about getting his own breakfast. The sick man murmured for water occasionally, but otherwise needed little attention until Miss Pringle came back. "Yancey Battick is all wrong about Delia Pringle," thought Hiram. "She may have her peculiarities, but she has a heart of gold." CHAPTER XI