every darned one. I'm doing this, and I'll thank you not to buy in
where you're not wanted. This picture is for her, too--but I don't want
the thing shouted from the housetops. When you go out, I wish you'd
shut the door."

The Old Man, thoroughly subdued, took the hint. He went out, and he
shut the door.






CHAPTER XVI.
Weary Advises.



"I have a short article here which may interest you, Miss Della," said
Dunk, coming out on the porch a few days later with a Butte paper in
his hand. The Little Doctor was swinging leisurely in the hammock.

"It's about the picture," he added, smiling.

"The picture? Oh, let me see!" The Little Doctor stopped the hammock
with her toe and sat up. The wind had tumbled her hair about her face
and drawn extra color to her cheeks, and she looked very sweet, Dunk
thought. He held out the paper, pointing a well-kept finger at the
place he wished her to read. There was a rather large headline, for
news was scarce just then and every little thing was made the most of.