"I's heerd men a comin'," she told me. "Like as not it's th' doctor."

I dashed out of the front door and met two dreadful looking creatures in
oilskins. As one of them was the ancient mariner I made up my mind he had
failed in his mission. But the other stared at me for an instant, quietly
stepped on the few planks we call the porch, and began to shed his outer
skin, which fell with a flop.

"Are you the doctor?" I finally asked him.

He bowed, very civilly, followed me into the house, and the other man
placidly sat down on the porch, while the slanting rain rattled on his
armour. I need hardly tell you that these people are as amphibious as
manatees.

Once within doors I scrutinized the doctor. He was a rather nice tall
chap with hair showing slightly the dearth of barbers in Sweetapple Cove,
a fact Daddy had informed himself of, for I had seen him looking
disconsolately at a safety razor. This man was also rather badly
unshaven, and a blue flannel shirt with a sodden string of a necktie
formed part of his apparel. I have seen healthy longshoremen rather more
neatly garbed. I'm afraid that at first I was badly disappointed.

I stood at the door of father's room, which is also the parlor and dining
room, hesitating foolishly. At last I asked the man to come in.

"Daddy dear, here is the doctor," I said.

You know that father does not consider himself merely as a tax-payer, and