"The Patriarch?" inquired Madison, with a puzzled air. "Who is he?"

"Why," said Mr. Higgins, "he's--he's the Patriarch. Been curin' us folks
around here longer'n any one can remember--just does it by faith, too."

Madison shook his head slowly.

"I might just as well be frank with you, Mr. Higgins," he said. "I've
never taken much stock in faith cure and that sort of thing."

"Mabbe," suggested Mr. Higgins deeply, "you ain't had much experience."

"No," confessed Madison reflectively; "I haven't--I haven't had any."

"Well then, you just wait an' see," said Mr. Higgins, waving his
mittened hand as though the whole matter were conclusively settled. "You
just wait an' see."

"But I'm afraid I don't quite understand," prodded Madison innocently.
"What kind of cures does he perform?"

They turned a right-angled bend in the road, disclosing a straggling
hamlet in a hollow below, and, farther away in the distance, a sweep of
ocean.

"Most any kind," said Mr. Higgins. "There's Needley now. All you've got
to do is ask the first person you see about him."

"Yes," said Madison, "but take yourself, for instance. Did this
Patriarch ever do anything for you?"