So she was not surprised when he rushed breathlessly into the
kitchen one evening, about supper-time, and exclaimed in excited
tones: "Ma, I 've got a horse! He was havin' a fit on the commons
an' they was goin' to shoot him, an' I ast the man to give him to
me!"

"My land, Billy! What do you want with a fit-horse?" asked his
mother.

"'Cause I knowed you could cure him. The man said if I took him I'd
have to pay fer cartin' away his carcass, but I said, 'All right, I
'll take him, anyway.' Come on, ma, an' see him!" and Billy hurried
back to his new possession.

Mrs. Wiggs pinned a shawl over her head and ran across the commons.
A group of men stood around the writhing animal, but the late owner
had departed.

"He's 'most gone," said one of the men, as she came up. "I tole
Billy you'd beat him fer takin' that ole nag offen the man's
han's."

"Well, I won't," said Mrs. Wiggs, stoutly. "Billy Wiggs's got more
sense than most men I know. That hoss's carcass is worth something I
'spect he'd bring 'bout two dollars dead, an' mebbe more living.
Anyway, I'm goin' to save him if there's any save to him!"

She stood with her arms on her hips, and critically surveyed her
patient. "I'll tell you what's the matter with him," was her final