Emma thought it wise to pay him at once, although her heart was beating in her ears--she longed so for the doctor’s opinion on Jarlsen. She hesitated, and then said: “It is in the wallet between the shake-downs in the lean-to chamber. Put it back where you found it.” She forgot him as she greeted the doctor; her whole mind was full of the Swede. VII. TROUBLE ACCUMULATES. “If you’re feeding a mean dog, be sure he’ll bite you when he’s had enough.” THE doctor let Emma tell him her own complete narrative of Jarlsen’s mishap; nor did he interrupt once, save with questions that served as a spur to her flagging memory. Her mode of recital was detailed and feminine, obnoxious to science. She told, incidentally (but at great length) how Jarlsen had always treated her; and quoted his sayings, which were, in her retrospective judgment, prophetic. The doctor’s manner was so courteous that a more experienced girl than Emma could not have inferred that Jarlsen’s relations with her before the accident would not strike his physician as indicative of his condition after it. Dr. Brent had a sober, inscrutable smile; he gave the observer an impression of seeing with great difficulty, although he wore no glasses. His manner was at times indifferent, yet he inspired confidence. As Jerry had said, “He don’t have to hustle to cure you, like these farmin’ pill-men we hev to Soot City.” Emma was so rapt in the first uninterrupted recital of her troubles that she did not observe Quarry as he crossed the kitchen to the house door. He had the wallet in his hand, which shook; his face twitched and was chalk white. “I hope that is not your father,” said Dr. Brent politely as he would say: “There is a shower coming; I hope it may not wet you.” Emma looked at him and liked him, for she saw that he knew at a glance what Quarry was. And she had taken lessons in him for a lifetime and had not learned him yet. Then the doctor rose and went into Jarlsen’s room. Waiting for the doctor’s opinion is one of the fearful things that civilization has imposed on humanity. It is during such intervals of suspense that a racked mind learns the pattern of the carpet, the similarity in outline of some familiar pieces of furniture, and of some impossible beast or bird sprawling on the wall papers. Emma discovered stains in the sheer curtains at the window. She prayed in a general way, and feared the moment when the doctor should appear again. For the first time she observed that quite a crowd surrounded the house, looking in at the windows. They wore long faces beneath their eager eyes, and looked as though good news would be a (conversational) calamity. Jerry Black, however, stood among them with the perfect aspect of honest sympathy.