The doctor smiled.  “I did not suppose it would be as bad as that,” he said; “but if what you say is true, let us skip about instantly, and do something.”

“That is the sort of action that I am trying to goad you into,” said the old lady.

“Oh, I will do what I can,” said the doctor, “but I really think there is nothing to be done here, and at this season.  People do not want teachers in summer, and I see no promise of a later demand of this sort in Thorbury.  We must try elsewhere.”

“Not yet,” said the other.  “I shall not give up Thorbury yet.  It is easier for us to work for Miss Drane here than anywhere else, because we are here, and we are not anywhere else.  Moreover, she will like to come here, for then she will not be among strangers; so please let us exhaust Thorbury before thinking of any other place.”

“Very good,” said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, “and now let us exhaust Thorbury as fast as we can, before a patient comes in.  I am expecting one.”

“If she comes, she can wait,” said Miss Panney.  “You have a case here which is acute and alarming, and cannot be trifled with.”

“How do you know I expect a ’she’?” asked the doctor.

“If it had been a man, he would have been here and gone,” said Miss Panney.

Miss Panney knew as well as any one that immediate employment as a teacher could be rarely obtained in summer, and for this reason she wished to confine her efforts to the immediate neighborhood, where personal persuasion and influence might be brought into action.  Moreover, she had said to herself, “If we cannot get any teaching for the girl, we must get her something else to do, for the present.  But whatever is to be done must be done here and now, or the old woman will be off before we know it.”

She sat for a few moments with her brows knitted in thought.  Suddenly she exclaimed, “Is it Susan Clopsey you expect?  Very well, then, I will make an exception in her favor.  She is just coming in at the gate, and I would not interfere with your practice on her for anything.  She has got money and a spinal column, and as long as they both last she is more to be depended on than government bonds.  If her troubles ever get into her legs, and I have reason to believe they will, you can afford to hire a little maid for your cook.  Old Daniel Clopsey, her grandfather, died at ninety-five, and he had then the same doctorable rheumatism that he had at fifty.  I have something to think over, and I will come in again when she is gone.”

“Depart, O mercenary being!” exclaimed the doctor, “before you abase my thoughts from sulphate of quinia to filthy lucre.”

“Lucre is never filthy until you lose it,” said the old lady as she went out on the back piazza, and closed the door behind her.

About twenty minutes later she burst into the doctor’s office.  “Mercy on us!” she exclaimed, “are you here yet, Susan Clopsey?  I must see you, doctor; but don’t you go, Susan.  I won’t keep him more than two minutes.”