"O, don't get me roused up. I'm _so_ sleepy," she said drowsily. "Well, I'd like to hear it." The interest in her little story which had not been exhibited at the proper time was being exhibited now with a vengeance. She sighed and said, "I can't think of it now--tell you in the morning. Good night," and turned away. When morning came and they were both awake, the doctor again referred to the unfinished story. "It's lost interest for me. It wasn't a story to start with, just a little incident that seemed odd--" "Well, let's have it." "Well, then," said Mary, "I was writing away when the door-bell rang. I went to open it and saw through the glass the laundry man--" Ting-a-ling-ling-ling. Ting-a-ling-ling-ling. Ting-a-ling-ling-ling. "Go on!" exclaimed her husband, hurriedly, "I'll wait till you finish." "I'll not _race_ through a story in any such John Gilpin style," said Mary, tartly. "Go, John!" The doctor arose and went. "No." "I think not." "Has she any fever?" "All right, I'll be down in a little bit." Then he went back. "Now you can finish," he said. "Finis is written _here_," said Mary. "Don't say story to me again!" So Mary's story remained unfinished. But a few days later, when she was in the buggy with her husband she relented. "Now that the 'phone can't cut me short, John, I will finish about the odd incident just because you wanted to know. But it will fall pretty flat now, as all things do with too many preliminary flourishes." "Go on," said the doctor. "Well, you know I told you I dated my letter back to Sunday afternoon, and was writing away when I heard the door-bell ring. As I started toward the door I saw the laundry man standing there. I was conscious of looking at him in astonishment and in a dazed sort of way as I walked across the large room to open the door. I am sure he must have noticed the expression on my face. When I opened the door he asked as he always does, 'Any laundry?'" "'Any laundry _today_?' The words were on my tongue's end but I stopped them in time. You see it was really Sunday to me, so deep into the spirit of it had I got, and it was with a little shock that I came back to Monday again in time to answer the man in a rational way. And now my story's done." "Not a bad one, either," said John, "I'm glad you condescended to finish it." * * * * * The doctor came home at ten o'clock and went straight to bed and to sleep. At eleven he was called. "What is it?" he asked gruffly. "It's time for Silas to take his medicine and he won't do it." "Won't, eh?" "No, he vows he won't." "Well, let him alone for a while and then try again." About one came another ring. "We've both been asleep, Doctor, but I've been up fifteen minutes trying to get him to take his medicine and he won't do it. He says it's too damned nasty and that he don't need it anyhow." "Tell him I say he's a mighty good farmer, but a devilish poor doctor."