"No, only a sore throat" the doctor replied, loosening
his coat.

"Throat!" she rejoined, with a wry look on her
face. "Too bad 'twarn't her tongue. If ye could
snip off a bit o' that some day it would help folks
considerable 'round here."

The doctor laughed in answer, dropped the lines
over the dashboard and leaned forward in his seat,
the sun lighting up his clean-cut face. Busy as he
was--and there were few busier men in town, as
every hitching-post along the main street of Warehold
village from Billy Tatham's, the driver of the
country stage, to Captain Holt's, could prove--he
always had time for a word with the old nurse.

"And where have YOU been, Mistress Martha?"
he asked, with a smile, dropping his whip into the
socket, a sure sign that he had a few more minutes
to give her.

"Oh, down to the beach to git some o' the dirt off
Meg. Look at him--did ye ever see such a rapscallion!
Every time I throw him in he's into the
sand ag'in wallowin' before I kin git to him."

The doctor bent his head, and for an instant
watched the two dogs: Meg circling about Rex, all