"Don't!" Miss Theodosia shut her ears.

"I heard one--demonstration. I thought some one was dying, at least."

"Oh, that was the 'help wanted!' I see. My services are not required,
then; it was a false alarm."

Miss Theodosia was on her feet, remembering her manners. "It was a true
enough alarm; won't you sit down? I think my nerves need a doctor."

"Did I call myself a doctor? I am a reformed doctor, madam. It is some
years since I got out. But I thought, in a very urgent case--fits, you
know, or something like that--Thank you, I won't sit down. My work calls
me."

Miss Theodosia inclined her head politely, but curiosity seized her. How
curious she was getting about many things!

"I wish I knew--" she began.

"Yes, madam?"

"What work 'calls' reformed doctors. After they are--out."

The stranger's big, unharnessed laugh was almost startling to Miss
Theodosia. Why? She had never heard just such a big, unharnessed laugh
before. She had heard a big harnessed laugh--when? Before she could
answer her own thought, or the stranger could answer her spoken query, a
hurry of small feet sounded. Only Evangeline's feet could break speed