“Only be strict with ’em and draw the reins tight; find out to your satisfaction whether a gal knows her P’s and Q’s before you give her a stifficut: we’ve had enough of your ignoramuses,” said Colonel Lewis, the democratic potentate to whom Dr. Holbrook was expressing his fears that he should not give satisfaction. Then, as a bright idea suggested itself to the old gentleman, he added: “I tell you what, just _cut_ one or two at first; that’ll give you a name for being particular, which is just the thing.” Accordingly, with no definite idea as to what was expected of him, except that he was to find out “whether a gal knew her P’s and Q’s,” and was also to “cut one or two of the first candidates,” Dr. Holbrook accepted the situation, and then waited rather nervously his initiation. He was never at his ease in the society of ladies, unless they stood in need of his professional services, when he lost sight of _them_ at once, and thought only of their disease. His patient once well, however, he became nervously shy and embarrassed, retreating as soon as possible from her presence to the shelter of his friendly office, where, with his boots upon the table, and his head thrown back in a most comfortable position, he sat one April morning, in happy oblivion of the bevy of girls who were ere long to invade his sanctum. “Something for you, sir. The lady will wait for an answer,” said his office boy, passing to his master a little note, and nodding toward the street. Following the direction indicated, the doctor saw near his door an old-fashioned one-horse wagon, such as is still occasionally seen in New England among the farmers who till the barren soil and rarely indulge in anything new. On this occasion it was a square-boxed dark-green wagon, drawn by a sorrel horse, sometimes called by the genuine Yankee “yellow,” and driven by a white-haired man, whose silvery locks, falling around his wrinkled face, gave him a pleasing, patriarchal appearance, which interested the doctor far more than did the flutter of the blue ribbon beside him, even though the bonnet that ribbon tied shaded the face of a young girl. The note was from her, and, tearing it open, the doctor read, in a pretty, girlish handwriting: “Dr. Holbrook.” Here it was plainly visible that a “D” had been written as if she would have said “Dear.” Then, evidently changing her mind, she had with her finger blotted out the “D,” and made it into an oddly-shaped “S,” so that it read: “DR. HOLBROOK—SIR: Will you be at leisure to examine me on Monday afternoon, at three o’clock? “MADELINE A. CLYDE. “P. S.—For particular reasons I hope you can attend to me as early as Monday. M. A. C.”