“Is it the fever,” impatiently asked Mary Ann, unclosing her hot eyelids; “if it is we must drive it away,” said the doctor cheerfully. “Why should the fever have come to me?” she rejoined in a tone of rebellion. “Why was I thrown from my buggy last year and my back sprained? Such unpleasant things do come to us.” “To sprain your back is nothing compared with this fever; you got well again.” “And we will get you well if you will be quiet and reasonable.” “I am so hot, my head is so heavy.” The doctor, who had called for water and a glass, was mixing up a brown powder which he had produced from his pocket; she drank it without opposition, and then he lessened the weight of the bed-clothes, and afterwards turned his attention to the bed-room. It was close and hot, and the sun which had just burst forth brightly from the gray sky shone full upon it. “You have got the chimney stuffed up,” he exclaimed. “Mary Ann will not allow it to be open,” said Mrs. Brewster; “she is sensitive to cold, and feels the slightest draught.” The doctor walked to the chimney, turned up his coat cuff and wristband and pulled down a bag filled with shavings; some soot came with it and covered his hand, but he did not mind that; he was as little given to ceremony as Mrs. Brewster was to caution, and he walked leisurely up to the wash-stand to wash it off. “Now, if I catch that bag or any other bag up there obstructing the air, I shall pull down the bricks and make a good big hole that the sky can be seen through; of that I give you notice, madam.” He next pulled the window down at the top behind the blind, but the room at its best did not find favor with him. “It is not airy; it is not cool,” he said. “Is there not a better ventilated room in the house? if so, she shall be moved to it.” “My room is a cool one,” interposed Janey eagerly; “the sun never shines upon it, doctor.” It appears that Janey, thus speaking, must have reminded the doctor that she was present for in the same unceremonious fashion that he had laid his hands upon the chimney bag, he now laid them upon her shoulder and walked her out of the room. “You go down stairs, Miss Janey, and do not come within a mile of this room again until I give you notice.” During this time Mary Ann was talking imperiously and fretfully. “I will not be moved into Janey’s room; it is not furnished with half the comforts of mine; it has only a little bed-side carpet; I will not go there, doctor.” “Now, see here, Mary Ann,” said the doctor firmly, “I am responsible for getting you well, and I shall take my own way to do it. If I am to be contradicted at every suggestion, your mother can summon some one else to attend you, I will not undertake it.” “My dear you shall not be moved to Janey’s room;” said her mother coaxingly; “you shall be moved to mine, it is larger than this, you know, doctor, with a draught through it, if you wish to open the door and windows.”