Dr. Lynch had been absent a month. Poppleton missed him very much. The people spoke kindly of him. He “felt bad,” and they pitied him. The invalids wanted their physician. Dr. White could not fill his place. Dr. Lynch had a way of making people believe they were very sick, when they desired to think so; then he understood their cases; he knew their constitutions better than any other man. He could look so sad and sympathizing in an emergency which required nothing but a brown-bread pill to restore the patient to perfect health. If a man did not want to be very sick, he could often accommodate him. A patient with a bad liver had his pork and coffee stopped for a month, and got well on faith in a compound of molasses and water, medicinally impregnated with essence of sassafras. The doctor had tact; he doctored people’s imaginations, quite as much as their bodies, when the circumstances indicated such an array of remedial agents. The invalids wanted their doctor. Mrs. Brown hoped the Lord would spare her from any sickness till Dr. Lynch came back. Mrs. Jones would certainly die if she had one of her ill turns in his absence. Squire Green was sure he could not survive another attack of liver complaint, if his old doctor, who had twice saved his life, could not attend him. Deacon Smith might as well speak for his gravestone at once if Dr. Lynch did not return before spring. The popular physician had made a bad mistake in the Buckstone business; but all men make mistakes, and he was no worse than others. He had perjured himself, wronged an innocent man; but he had taken it all back; he had done all he could, and angels could no more. The ship-masters, the ship-builders, the bank officers, and the mill agents, who were wont to eat evening suppers at the Bell River House, declared that the doctor had been the life and soul of the party; and they hoped he would come back. He had been a little too sharp for his own interest; but there were a great many worse men than Dr. Lynch, who still held up their heads in society. Everybody condemned the conduct of the doctor, but all hoped he would return. Eugene Hungerford spoke tenderly of him, and Mr. Birch, the man of all others who had the right to denounce him, was never heard to say a word against him. The public voice preached the cardinal doctrine of Christianity: “And now abideth faith, hope, charity--these three; but the greatest of these is charity.” So said Poppleton, and the doctor was forgiven.