“Yes, I think I am getting along very well,” said Mr. Jelliffe, in answer to a question.  “This young man seems to know his business.  I was just hinting to him, this morning, that such a village as this can offer but a poor scope for his ability.”

“Gracious!” exclaimed Mrs. Barnett, laughingly.  “Please don’t let him hear you.  I have no doubt that what you say is perfectly true, but we could never do without him now.  He has only been here a short time, and it has made such a difference.  Before that we had no doctor, and—­and it was awful, sometimes.  You can’t realize how often Mr. Barnett and I have stood helplessly by some bedside, wringing our hands and wishing so hard, so dreadfully hard, for a man like Dr. Grant to help us.  Once we sent for a doctor, far away, and he came as soon as he could, but my little Lottie was already...”

A spasm of pain passed over her face, and there was a quickly indrawn breath.  Then she was quiet again.

“I hope he will never leave us,” she said.  “He may miss many things here, but it is a man’s work.”

“I don’t feel like leaving,” I told her, and she rewarded me by one of those charming smiles of hers.

Presently she took leave, and Miss Jelliffe looked at her father.

“Isn’t she wonderful!” she exclaimed.  “I can hardly understand it at all.”

“It isn’t only in the big places that people do big things,” he answered.  “What about that child she referred to, Doctor?”

I told him how the little one had been taken ill, and how they had been obliged to take her to the head of the cove, over the ice, until they were able to find a place where a pick could bite into the ground.  Miss Jelliffe stared at me, as I spoke, and I could see her beautiful eyes becoming shiny with gathering tears.

On the next day, as I was doing something to the plaster dressing, she came into the room, hurriedly.

“I’ve been out there,” she said.  “What a poor desolate place in which to leave one’s loved ones.  Won’t you let me help?  I think I am getting on very well with my untrained nursing.  I want as much practice as I can get.”

“I am bound hand and foot,” complained the patient.  “These women are taking all sorts of unfair advantages of me.  And, by the way, Helen, I want you to go out more.  You are remaining indoors so much that you are beginning to lose all your fine color.”

“I look like an Indian,” she protested laughing.

“Then I don’t want you to get bleached out.  You must go out walking more, or try some fishing, but be careful about those slippery rocks.  I can play no other part now than that of a dreadful example.”

“I am not going to budge from this room,” declared Miss Jelliffe.  “You know that you can’t get along without me.  Besides, there are no places that one can walk to.”

“I insist that you must get plenty of fresh air,” persisted her father.