“Who told you that?” she asked quickly.

“I can hear, can’t I?” he demanded coarsely.  “Didn’t you go just now to beg Struve to hold you over?  And . . .”

She slipped out of her chair and stood a moment staring coldly and contemptuously at him.  Then she was gone, leaving Patten watching her departure incredulously.

“A man who hasn’t any more sense than Caleb Patten,” she cried within herself, “has no business with a physician’s license.  It’s a sheer wonder he didn’t kill Roderick Norton!”

Already she had forgotten her words with Struve, or rather the matter for the present was shoved aside in her mind by another.  She had come here to make good, she had her fight before her, and she was going to make good.  She had to . . . for herself, for her own pride, for Elmer’s sake.  She went straight to Elmer and made him sit down and listen while she sketched actual conditions briefly and emphatically.

He was old enough to do something for himself in the world, continued idleness did him no earthly good and might do him no end of harm morally, mentally, and physically.  He had been her baby brother long enough; it was time that he became a man.  She had supported him until now, asking nothing of him in return save that he kept out of mischief a certain percentage of the time.  Now he was going to work and help out.  He could go to John Engle and get something to do upon one of Engle’s ranches.

Somewhat to her surprise Elmer responded eagerly.  He had been thinking the matter over and it appealed to him.  What he did not tell her was that he had seen some of the vaqueros riding in from one of the outlying ranges, lean, brown, quick-eyed men who bestrode high-headed mounts and who wore spurs, wide hats, shaggy chaps, and who, perhaps, carried revolvers hidden away in their hip pockets, men who drank freely, spent their money as freely at dice and cards, and who, all in all, were a picturesque crowd.  Elmer took up his hat and went down to the bank and had a talk with John Engle.  Virginia’s eyes followed him hopefully.

That day Norton was allowed for the first time to receive callers.  He had his talk with Engle, limited to five minutes by Patten who hung about curiously until Norton said pointedly that he wanted to speak privately with the banker.  Later Florrie came with her mother, bringing an immense armful of roses culled by her own hands, excited, earnest, entering the shaded room like a frightened child, speaking only in hushed whispers.

“Won’t you come in too for a moment, Virginia?” asked Mrs. Engle.  “Roddy will be glad to see you; he has asked about you.”

But Virginia made an excuse; it was Patten’s case and after what had occurred between herself and Patten she had no intention of so much as seeming to overstep the professional lines.  The following day, however, she did go to see him.  Patten himself, stiff and boorish, asked her to.  His patient had asked for her several times, knowing that she was in the building and marking how she made an exception and refused to look in on him while all of his other friends were doing so, some of them coming many miles.  Patten told her that Norton was not well by any means yet and that he did not intend to have him worried up over an imagined slight.  So Virginia did as she was bid.