stockings made the physician shake his head.

"Your feet are as cold as ice, I suppose, eh?" he inquired.

"Why, a trifle chilled, but nothing--really nothing."

Miss Martha called up the stairs.

"Doctor," she called, "here's a hot-water bag. I thought probably
'twould feel comfortable."

Doctor Powers accepted the bag and returned to the room, shaking his
head.

"That woman's got more sense than a--than a barn full of owls,"
he declared, solemnly. "There, Mr. Bangs, that'll warm up your
underpinning. Anything more you want? All right, are you?"

"Oh, yes, quite, quite. But really, doctor, I shouldn't permit this. I
feel like a trespasser, like--a--a--"

"You feel like going to sleep, that's what I want you to feel like.
Lucky the rain has driven off the fog or the foghorn would keep you
awake. It sounds like the crack of doom down here. Perhaps you noticed
it?"

"Yes, I did--ah--at least that."

"I shouldn't wonder. Anybody but a graven image would notice the Gould's
Bluffs foghorn. Matches right there by the lamp, in case you want 'em.