"She refuses to take them, unless I inspect them personally. These are the patients who try one's soul, Babe. I would rather deal with Asiatic cholera than with one fussy old woman with a digestion. They eat hot bread and fried steak, and then they eat pepsin." "Start a cooking crusade," Phebe suggested lazily. "Well, I'll go." "Thank you. You need the ride anyway; it will do you good, for you have been working too hard lately. I don't want my apprentice to wear herself out." The doctor patted her shoulder with a fatherly caress; then he turned to go into the house. "Give me leave to prescribe for Mrs. Richardson?" she called after him. "Yes, I make her over to you, and you can date your first case from this afternoon," he answered. "No; I'd rather have something a little younger and more interesting. I will be ready to start, right after lunch." The office door closed behind her father, and Phebe let her book slide from her knee, as she rested her tired eyes on the fresh green lawn before her. For the past three months, she had worked hard, eager to prove that her home-coming had been inspired by no sudden whim, still more eager to win her father's professional approval. Her work was interesting; and yet at times bones and arteries and nerves had a tendency to pall upon her. She had never dreamed that so much drudgery would attend the early stages of her professional studies. She was heartily sick of the theoretical, and she longed for the practical. She had even teased her father to let her go with him on his rounds. Instead, he had laughed at her and prescribed a further course of drudgery. "Never mind." she said to herself sturdily. "I'll get there, some day. I won't always carry pills to old women; and when I do get a real case of my own won't I astonish them all!" And events justified her assertion. She was still sitting there, dreaming of future deeds, when Allyn came out to the veranda. "Oh, Allyn?" "Hullo, sawbones!" "What are you going to do this afternoon?" "Nothing." "Don't you want to ride with me?" "Maybe. Where?" "To Bannock Bars." "What for?" "To take some pills to Mrs. Richardson." "Not much. Mrs. Richardson is frabjous and a gossip." "What if she is? You needn't talk to her." But Allyn shook his head. "Not if I know myself. I'll oil your wheel for you, Babe, and pack your pills; but I won't go within range of Mrs. Richardson, for she gives me the creeps." "She won't hurt you." "No; but she makes me feel clammy in the spine of my back, and then she gives me good advice. I'll tell you, Babe, I'll go and get Cis, and we will ride part way with you. If two people escort you half way, that is as good as having one of them go all the way. Besides, I never feel quite easy when I am all alone with you. If anything happened, you might be moved to experiment on me, and that would be fatal."