The “frequent visitor’s” dog acknowledged the mention of his name by two or three taps with his tail on the floor, as he sat in the uninclosed passage between the two rooms beside Marcella, who had dropped down on a rickety bench that stood against the wall. The girl turned upward her pale, anxious face, with a dumb despair in her eyes. She had hung on the physician’s words, as if there were healing in the very sound. Mrs. Strobe held her tiny figure very erect; there was color in her cheeks, and her eyes flashed. In fact, the professional call had been in some sort distinguished as a collision between two eminent medical authorities. “I hev been considered ekal to doctorin’ Eli an’ ye chil’n’,” declared Mrs. Strobe, with a manner as attestive as if she were reading a diploma, “an’ he tells me I needn’t continue the yerb teas ez I hev been brewin’; they air ‘useless,’ an’ whatever air ‘useless’ air mo’ or less ‘injurious.’ How does he know?” she demanded, with sphinxine triumph; “he dunno _what_ I put inter ’em. _Me!_ ez hev fetched all ye folks through all sort’n mis’ries an’ measles with my yerb-bag! An’ he gimme these hyar leetle papers with powders in ’em,—nuthin’ in the world but sand, I’ll be bound,—an’ this hyar bottle,—‘lotium,’ he called it; smells loud enough ter knock a calf down! An’ that’s _all_ it’s good fur, ter derange yer nose tee-totally, till ye can’t smell no mo’ till kingdom come. An’ ‘stop them yerb teas,—no good;’ an’ he don’t know _what’s_ in ’em! An’ let Eli sleep, when the mo’ he sleeps the foolisher he talks whenst he wakes up. Shucks! I be goin’ ter doctor Eli Strobe myself! I hev tuk him along through a many a tight fix.” The girl sighed with relief and renewing hope, and pushed back the tangled heavy curling hair from her brow. “Don’t ye be oneasy, chile,” said the sturdy little dame. “I ’lowed ter Teck Jepson jes’ yestiddy, I say, ‘Eli Strobe’s my son. But what through his bein’ the dad o’ Marcelly an’ Is’bel, an’ the constable o’ Brumsaidge, an’ the patient o’ the doctor, a body mought see they didn’t ’low me ter hev _much_ sheer in him. But I be his mother, an’ ef I hev got _enny_ rights I reckon it air ter dose him ter my own taste.’ An’ Teck say, ‘Ef I war sick, Mis’ Strobe, I’d a sight ruther hev you-uns ter look arter me ’n enny doctor-man I ever see.’ Teck spoke right up.” “Teck Jepson!” cried the girl, knitting her straight black eyebrows, “hev he hed the insurance ter kem hyar agin?” “Ye air a idjit, Marcelly; ’course he kem ter inquire arter Eli. He ain’t studyin’ ’bout you-uns; but that’s jes’ like a gal,—vainglorious till she ’lows the man air a-contrivin’ an’ thinkin’ ’bout’n her all the time. Shucks, chile; wait till ye git ez old ez I be, an’ ye’ll find out it air the wimmin ez hev ter do the thinkin’ an’ contrivin’ ter please the men, an’ _then_ can’t keep up with ’em more’n half the time.”