Mr. Clyde turned and left the room. When he returned his hand was outstretched. “I’ve taken three swallows of cold air, and sent for a cab,” he said. “Shake hands. I think you and I will be friends. Only—train me a little gently at the outset. You’ll come with me?” “Yes,” said Dr. Strong, and the two men shook hands. During the drive Mr. Clyde expounded the virtues and characteristics of his native city to his new acquaintance, who was an excellent listener. Long afterward he found Dr. Strong acting on remembered and shrewdly analyzed information given in that first long talk. When they reached the big, rambling, many-windowed house which afforded the growing Clyde family opportunity to grow, the head of the household took his guest to an apartment in one of the wings. “These two rooms are yours,” he said. “I hope you’ll be like Coleridge who came to visit with one satchel and stayed five years.” “That remains to be seen to-morrow,” said Dr. Strong. “By the way, as I usually read myself to sleep, you might leave me some of your local health reports. Thus I can be looking the ground over.” “All I’ve got you’ll find on the shelf over the desk. Good-night!” Being of that type of man who does his thinking before and not after a decision, Mr. Thomas Clyde arose in the morning with an untroubled mind as to his new venture in household economics. Voices from the library attracted him thither, as he came downstairs, and, entering, he beheld his guest hedged in a corner by the grandmother of the Clyde household. “Don’t tell me, young man,” the old lady was saying, in her clear, determined voice. “You’ve not slept well for ages! I know that kind of an eye.” “Mrs. Sharpless has been diagnosing my case, Mr. Clyde,” called the guest, with a rather wry smile. “You stay here for a while,” said she vigorously, “and I’ll cocker you up. I don’t believe you even eat properly. Do you?” “Maybe not,” admitted the young man. “We doctors are sometimes less wise for ourselves than for others.” “Oh! So you’re a doctor?” asked the grandmother with a shrewd, estimating glance. “Dr. Strong is, I hope, going to stay with us awhile,” explained her son-in-law. “Good!” said Mrs. Sharpless. “And I’ll take care of him.” “It’s a strong inducement,” said Dr. Strong gracefully. “But I want a little more material on which to base a decision.” “Between us Grandma and I ought to be able to answer any questions,” said Mr. Clyde. “About sickness, then, in the family. I’ve already introduced myself to Mrs. Clyde and questioned her; but her information isn’t definite.” “Myra seldom is,” observed Mr. Clyde. “It’s part of her charm. But Grandma Sharpless has been keeping a daybook for years. Everything that’s ever happened, from the cat’s fits to the dressmaker’s misfits, is in that series. I’ve always thought it might come in handy sometime.”