let doctor come. Father coughs so bad."

"I will tell him, and he will do as he sees fit," said Mrs. Partridge,
stiffly, "and now run home, and do not put me out with your sauce
again."

An hour or two later, the doctor's chaise stopped at the Hamlins.
Doctors, as well as other people, were plainer-spoken in those days,
especially in dealing with the poor. Dr. Partridge was a kind-hearted
man, but it did not occur to him as it does to his successors of our
day, to mince matters with patients, and cheer them up with hopeful
generalities, reserving the bitter truths to whisper in the ears of
their friends outside the door. After a look and a few words, he said
to Fennell:

"I can do you no good."

"Shall I die?" asked the sick man, faintly.

"You may live a few weeks, but not longer. The disease has taken too
strong a hold."

Fennell looked around the room. Prudence was not present.

"Don't tell Prudy," he said.

As to Reuben, who was already looking much brighter than the preceding
night, the doctor said:

"He may get well," and left a little medicine.