"You speak like a Christian."

The tears came into Jim's eyes, for he saw in that little sentence, the
cruelty of the treatment she had received.

"Well, I ain't no Christian, as I knows on," he responded, "an' I don't
think they're very plenty in these parts; but I'm right sorry for ye.
You look as if you might be a good sort of a woman."

"I should have been if it hadn't been for the pigeons," said the woman.
"They flew over a whole day, in flocks, and flocks, and cursed the
world. All the people have got the plague, and they don't know it. My
children all died of it, and went to hell. Everybody is going to hell,
and nothing can save them. Old Buffum'll go first. Robert Belcher'll go
next. Dr. Radcliffe will go next."

"Look here, old woman, ye jest leave me out of that calkerlation," said
Jim.

"Will you have the kindness to kill me, sir?" said the woman.

"I really can't, this mornin'," he replied, "for I've got a good ways
to tramp to-day; but if I ever want to kill anybody I'll come round,
p'r'aps, and 'commodate ye."

"Thank you," she responded heartily.

The Doctor turned to Jim, and said: