This consideration somewhat reconciled Mrs. Mudge to the step proposed, and as Paul, instead of getting better, grew rapidly worse, Mr. Mudge thought it expedient to go immediately for the village physician. Luckily Dr. Townsend was at home, and an hour afterwards found him standing beside the sick boy. “I don't know but you'll think it rather foolish, our sending for you, doctor,” said Mrs. Mudge, “but Mudge would have it that the boy was sick and so he went for you.” “And he did quite right,” said Dr. Townsend, noticing the ghastly pallor of Paul's face. “He is a very sick boy, and if I had not been called I would not have answered for the consequences. How do you feel, my boy?” he inquired of Paul. “I feel very weak, and my head swims,” was the reply. “How and when did this attack come on?” asked the doctor, turning to Mr. Mudge. “He was taken while hoeing in the field,” was the reply. “Have you kept him at work much there lately?” “Well, yes, I've been drove by work, and he has worked there all day latterly.” “At what time has he gone to work in the morning?” “He has got up to milk the cows about five o'clock. I used to do it, but since he has learned, I have indulged myself a little.” “It would have been well for him if he had enjoyed the same privilege. It is my duty to speak plainly. The sickness of this boy lies at your door. He has never been accustomed to hard labor, and yet you have obliged him to rise earlier and work later than most men. No wonder he feels weak. Has he a good appetite?” “Well, rather middlin',” said Mrs. Mudge, “but it's mainly because he's too dainty to eat what's set before him. Why, only the first day he was here he turned up his nose at the bread and soup we had for dinner.” “Is this a specimen of the soup?” asked Dr. Townsend, taking from the table the bowl which had been proffered to Paul and declined by him. Without ceremony he raised to his lips a spoonful of the soup and tasted it with a wry face. “Do you often have this soup on the table?” he asked abruptly. “We always have it once a day, and sometimes twice,” returned Mrs. Mudge. “And you call the boy dainty because he don't relish such stuff as this?” said the doctor, with an indignation he did not attempt to conceal. “Why, I wouldn't be hired to take the contents of that bowl. It is as bad as any of my own medicines, and that's saying a good deal. How much nourishment do you suppose such a mixture would afford? And yet with little else to sustain him you have worked this boy like a beast of burden,--worse even, for they at least have abundance of GOOD food.”