Shawn gazed out of the window. The fleecy clouds were moving majestically above the river, along the old haunts he loved so well, but something in the kind blue eyes of the good woman sitting there with folded hands, touched his innermost being, and he arose and turning squarely to face his benefactress, said: "I'll do it, Mrs. Alden." "I thank you, Shawn." "Yes, mam, but I did not ketch that fish I brought you for niggers to eat; they never told you I brought it." Mrs. Alden rolled her chair near him, and placing her hand on his shoulder, said, "I appreciate your bringing it very much and will remember it." As Shawn left the porch he turned to his little dog and said, "Oh, Lord, Coaly, we're goin' to school!" CHAPTER II DOCTOR HISSONG'S OFFICE "So you are going to school, Shawn?" "Yes, sir, I promised Mrs. Alden." "That's the best promise you ever made, and to the best woman that God ever made." Old Doctor Hissong sat in his big armchair, his spectacles tilted high on his nose as he looked at Shawn, who was leaning against the mantel-board. Old Brad, a negro who had been the doctor's servant for many years, sat in a hickory chair near the back door. Brad, aside from taking care of the doctor's office, gave some of his time to preaching, although it was a matter of some speculation as to whether his general habits warranted his ministerial fulfillments. The old office was dingy with its medicine bottles ranging along the shelves, and cobwebs and dust were in evidence all about them. Over in the corner was a pair of saddlebags, and a pair of jean legging hung over a chair. In another corner was a tall book-case, the glass front broken out, and the books scattered about on the shelves. On the top of the book-case was an object which had long been a source of discomfort to Shawn and Brad--a grinning skull. A doctor's office, in the old days, without a skull peering out from some hidden recess, was not considered complete--it contributed a kind of mysterious power to the man of medicine, and lent the impression that he had dipped deeply into the science of healing. "Look at the slate, Shawn." Shawn went out and took down the slate which hung by the office door. "Old man Stivers has been writing on the slate," said Shawn. "Huh," said Brad, "I reckun he 'cided to cum an' git you to cum out an' see his wife, now dat he done rin up a bill wid ole doc' Poleen, an' carn't git him to cum no mo'." "Yes, Brad, it's strange--the man who loses sleep and health to save others has a hard time getting his pay. They look to the doctor mighty anxiously in the hour of trouble, and in the hour of suffering and death the doctor is a power of comfort." "I see dat Bill Hugers scratchin' on de slate las' night," said Brad, "yo' hain' gwine to see him no mo', is yo', wid him owin' yo' a big bill?" "Bill was one of my best friends when I made the race for the Legislature," said the doctor.