"Insult, indeed!" said he. "I have a regular rule about insults. When anybody under thirty insults me, I give her a piece of my mind if she is a woman, and a taste of my horsewhip if he is a man. But between thirty and fifty, I am very careful about my resentments, because people are then very likely to be cracked or damaged in some way or other, either in body or mind, and unless I am very cautious, I may do more injury than I intend. But toward folks over fifty, especially when they are old friends, I have no resentments at all. I simply button up my coat and turn up my collar, and let the storm pelt; and when it is fine weather again, I generally find that I have forgotten that it ever rained." "And when a person is in the neighborhood of seventy-five, I suppose you thank her kindly for a good slap in the face." The doctor laughed heartily. "Precisely," said he. "And now tell me what has happened. You are all right, I see. How are the Cobhurst people getting on?" "Oh, well enough," said Miss Panney. "The young man and that Cicely Drane of yours have agreed to marry each other, and I suppose the old lady will live with them, and Miriam will have to get down from her high horse and agree to play second fiddle, or go to school again. She is too young for anything else." The doctor stared. "You amaze me!" he cried. "Oh, you needn't be amazed," said Miss Panney; "I did it!" "You?" said the doctor, "I thought you wanted him to marry Dora." "If you thought that," said Miss Panney, flashing her black eyes upon him, "why did you lend yourself to such an underhanded piece of business as the sending of that Drane girl there?" "Oh, bless my soul!" exclaimed the doctor, "I did not lend myself to anything. I did not send her there to be married. Let us drop that, and tell me how you came to change your mind."