Jack-in-the-box, while old Major, only too ready for a halt, stood
still in spite of a desperate twitch of the reins, which had as much
effect as pulling at a fish-hook which has made fast to an anchor.
Mrs. Meeker feigned a great excitement.

"I won't keep you but a moment," she said, "but I want to hear what
you think about Mis' Thacher's chances."

"Mrs. Thacher's?" repeated the doctor, wonderingly.

"She's doing well, isn't she? I don't suppose that she will ever be a
young woman again."

"I don't know why, but I took it for granted that you was goin'
there," explained Mrs. Meeker, humbly. "She has seemed to me as if she
was failing all summer. I was up there last night, and I never said so
to her, but she had aged dreadfully. I wonder if it's likely she's had
a light shock? Sometimes the fust one's kind o' hidden; comes by night
or somethin', and folks don't know till they begins to feel the damage
of it."

"She hasn't looked very well of late," said the doctor. For once in
his life he was willing to have a friendly talk, Mrs. Meeker thought,
and she proceeded to make the most of her opportunity.

"I think the care of that girl of Ad'line's has been too much for her
all along," she announced, "she's wild as a hawk, and a perfect
torment. One day she'll come strollin' in and beseechin' me for a
bunch o' flowers, and the next she'll be here after dark scarin' me
out o' my seven senses. She rigged a tick-tack here the other night