"Don't lie to me, you young rascal! Where does it hurt?" "Inside; here." The speaker placed his hand on his right lung. "It ought to hurt there, for you've a bruise as big as a soup plate. Nothing dangerous, but you must be careful. Stay in this room for two days, anyway, and lie down most of the time. Do you promise?" "I suppose I'll have to," replied Glenning, somewhat ruefully. Doctor Kale thumped over to his hat and medicine case. Jamming the hat on his head till it almost rested on his ears, he grabbed his case, then swung around and gazed keenly at the new doctor. "Are you married?" he demanded, abruptly, and in a manner which in anyone else would have been highly impertinent. "No," was the answer, given quite gravely. A meaningless snort greeted this inoffensive monosyllable. Then Doctor Kale began to parade the room, thumping and storming. "Why in hell ain't you? A doctor ought to be married--adds to his respectability. And here you come sneakin' into Macon not married!" He stopped about three feet in front of the figure in the chair. "I may be a rascal, as some people say, but I'm no fool. You're not married, and you went into a fiery furnace to save Julia Dudley's horse. Now I've got this to say. The man who gets her has me to reckon with as well as the old Major. Damned if he don't have to _prove_ himself, and be as clean as a white-washed wall! Good morning, sir!" He stamped to the door, went out, slammed it furiously behind him, and was gone. CHAPTER IV