know Helena."

"It's a wise guy dat knows skirts," said the Flopper profoundly; then,
with something approaching a sigh: "Say, Doc, dere's a lalapazoozoo, a
peach down here."

"Hullo!" exclaimed Madison, shooting a hurried and critical glance at
the Flopper in the moonlight. "What's this, Flopper--what's this? What
have you been up to? You're supposed to be attending strictly to
business."

"An' you needn't t'ink I ain't," asserted the Flopper. "But I can't stop
de town fallin' over itself to bring de whole farmyard, an' eggs, an'
butter, an' flour, an' everyt'ing else out here every mornin', can I?
She's blown in twice wid cream fer de Patriarch."

"What's her name?" inquired Madison quizzically.

"Mamie Rodgers," said the Flopper. "She says her old man keeps a store
in de village."

"I know her," nodded Madison. "Pretty girl and all right, Flopper. But
mind what you're doing, that's all. I don't want any complications to
queer things around here--understand? But let's get down to the business
that I came out about--the lay from now on. You can put Helena wise."

"Sure," said the Flopper earnestly.

"Well then, listen," said Madison. "The patients have begun to
arrive--there were three of them in to-day. There's no more circus