stiff-necked stupidity than I have with their sins."

James drove all the morning with Doctor Gordon about the New Jersey
country. It was a moist, damp day, such as sometimes comes even in
winter. It was a dog day with an atmosphere slightly cooler than that of
midsummer. Overcoats were oppressive, the horses steamed. The roads were
deep with red mud, which clogged the wheels and made the hoofs of the
horses heavy. "It's a damned soil," said Doctor Gordon. This morning
after appearing somewhat saturnine at breakfast, he was again in his
unnatural, rollicking mood. He hailed everybody whom he met. He joked
with the patients and their relatives in the farmhouses, approached
through cart-tracks of mire, and fluttered about by chickens, quacking
geese, and dead leaves. Now and then, stately ranks of turkeys charged
in line of battle upon the muddy buggy, and the team, being used to it,
stood their ground, and snorted contemptuously. The country people were
either saturnine with an odd shyness, which had something almost hostile
in it, or they were effusively hospitable, forcing apple-jack upon the
two doctors. James was much struck by the curious unconcern shown by the
relatives of the patients, and even by the patients themselves. In only
one case, and that of a child suffering from a bad case of measles, was
much interest evinced. The majority of the patients were the very old
and middle-aged, and they discussed, and heard discussed, their symptoms
with much the same attitude as they might have discussed the mechanism
of a wooden doll. If any emotion was shown it was that of a singular
inverted pride. "I had a terrible night, doctor," said one old woman,
and a smirk of self-conceit was over her ancient face. "Yes, mother
_did_ have an awful night," said her married daughter with a triumphant
expression. Even the children clustering about the doctor looked
unconsciously proud because their old grandmother had had an awful
night. The call of the two doctors at the house was positively