The Old Man winked at the Little Doctor over a great wedge of feathery
delight. "I don't see nothing the matter with this--only it goes down
too easy," he assured the Countess between mouthfuls. "Fix up your
list, Dell, and don't be afraid t' order everything yuh need. I'll
foot the--"

The Old Man, thinking to go back to his work, stepped into the puddle of
soft soap and sat emphatically down upon the top step, coasting rapidly
to the bottom. A carpet slipper shot through the open door and landed
in the dishpan; the other slipper disappeared mysteriously. The wedge
of cake was immediately pounced upon by an investigative hen and carried
in triumph to her brood.

"Good Lord!" J. G. struggled painfully to his feet. "Dell, who in
thunder put that stuff there? You're a little too doggoned anxious
for somebody t' practice on, seems t' me." A tiny trickle of blood
showed in the thin spot on his head.

"Are you hurt, J. G.? We--I spilled the soap." The Little Doctor gazed
solicitous, from the doorway.

"Huh! I see yuh spilled the soap, all right enough. I'm willin' to
believe yuh did without no affidavit. Doggone it, a bachelor never has
any such a man-trap around in a fellow's road. I've lived in Montana
fourteen years, an' I never slipped up on my own doorstep till you got
here. It takes a woman t' leave things around--where's my cake ?"

"Old Specie took it down by the bunk house. Shall I go after it?"