“Had a mite of snow night before last,” observed Mr. Higgins, pointing it out with his whip, as he settled himself comfortably.  “Kinder reckoned we’d got rid of it for good till next fall till this come along, but you can’t never tell.  What was it you said brought you down here, Mr. Madison?”

Madison smiled.

“Rest and quiet—­complete change,” he said.  “Nervous breakdown, according to the doctors—­that’s what they always call it, you know, when they can’t find any other name for it.  I’ve been overdoing it, I suppose.”

“Be that so!” returned Mr. Higgins sympathetically.  “I want to know!  Well, now, that’s too bad!  Lookin’ for quiet, be you?  Well, I reckon mabbe folks don’t scurry around here quite so lively as they do in some of the bigger towns like Noo York, but there’s a tolerable lot goin’ on most every week, church festivals, an’ spellin’ bees, an’ such.  Folks here is right hospitable, but you ain’t in no way obliged to join in if you don’t feel up to it.  I’ll explain matters to ’em, an’—­” Hiram Higgins stopped, excitedly gathered reins and whip into one hand, and with the other smote his knee a resounding whack.  “Well, I swan!” he exclaimed.  “An’ I never thought of it until this minute!  I reckon you’ve come to just the right place, and just as soon as you get settled you go right out an’ see the Patriarch—­you won’t need no more doctor, an’ folks up your way won’t know when you go back.”

“The Patriarch?” inquired Madison, with a puzzled air.  “Who is he?”

“Why,” said Mr. Higgins, “he’s—­he’s the Patriarch.  Been curin’ us folks around here longer’n any one can remember—­just does it by faith, too.”

Madison shook his head slowly.

“I might just as well be frank with you, Mr. Higgins,” he said.  “I’ve never taken much stock in faith cure and that sort of thing.”

“Mabbe,” suggested Mr. Higgins deeply, “you ain’t had much experience.”

“No,” confessed Madison reflectively; “I haven’t—­I haven’t had any.”

“Well then, you just wait an’ see,” said Mr. Higgins, waving his mittened hand as though the whole matter were conclusively settled.  “You just wait an’ see.”

“But I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,” prodded Madison innocently.  “What kind of cures does he perform?”

They turned a right-angled bend in the road, disclosing a straggling hamlet in a hollow below, and, farther away in the distance, a sweep of ocean.

“Most any kind,” said Mr. Higgins.  “There’s Needley now.  All you’ve got to do is ask the first person you see about him.”

“Yes,” said Madison, “but take yourself, for instance.  Did this Patriarch ever do anything for you?”

“He did,” said Mr. Higgins impressively.  “An’ ’twasn’t but last week.  I’m glad you asked me.  For two nights I couldn’t sleep.  Had the earache powerful.  Poured hot oil an’ laud’num into it, an’ kept a hot brick rolled up in flannel against it, but didn’t do no good.  Then Mrs. Higgins says, ‘Hiram, why in the land’s sake don’t you go out an’ see the Patriarch?’ An’ I hitched right up, an’ every step that horse took I could feel it gettin’ better, an’ I wasn’t five minutes with the Patriarch before I was cured, an’ I ain’t had a twinge since.”