“Not my aunt, Doctor Geddes; your cousin.”

“Your aunt-by-marriage.  It’s just as bad.  Anyhow, she preferred you to any of us, didn’t she?”

“Perhaps because she didn’t know me.”

“Have it so. But she did whatever she did because she was an old devil of a woman, and an old devil of a woman can give points to Satan.  If,” cried the doctor, vehemently, “there is one great reason why a man should be glad he’s a man, it is because he will never live to be an old woman!”

“That depends upon one’s point of view,” I told him firmly.  “Now, I’m glad I’m a woman because I shall never live to be an old man.  Old ladies are far, far nicer.  Have you ever known an old lady who thought herself captivating?  Have you ever known any old man who didn’t think he could be if he wished?”

“Yes,” shouted the doctor, “and no!—­in both cases!  There is no sex in fools.  There is no age limit, either.”

“The Talmud says:  ’An old woman in the house is a blessing; but an old man is a nuisance.’”

“I don’t give a bobtailed scat what the Talmud says.  I know what I know.—­Miss Gaines, I leave it to you.”

“Why, I like them both, when they’re nice; and I’m sorry for them both when they’re not.”  And she added, with a naive air of confidence:  “But I think I like young men better than either, as a rule.”

The doctor removed his hat again, and sat down.  His eyebrows went up, his eyes crinkled.

“Miss Alicia Gaines,” he said genially, “I perceive you are a girl-child of fine promise.—­As for us, Miss Smith, what have we to do with age and foolishness, who, as yet, have neither?  Let’s get down to business.  What are you going to do about the lane behind Hynds House?  We had the use of that lane this hundred years and more, until the devil got too strong in Sophronisba and she shut it up.  Now, shall you keep the lane closed, or shall you dismiss the injunctions?”

“I shall have to consult Judge Gatchell.”

“Gatchell’s a fossilized remains.  He’s got no more blood in his liver than a flea.  Gatchell would hang his grandmother on a point of law.  Why should you, or any other ordinarily intelligent person, be guided by Gatchell?”

“By whom, then, shall I be guided?  You?” I wondered.

“That’s not in my line,” replied the doctor, shortly, and thrust his hands into his gloves.  “In the meantime, ladies, I’m your next-door neighbor; I have no wife to gossip about you, no children to annoy you; I’m far enough away to keep you from smelling my pipe; and I shall quarrel with you only when I can’t help it.  In return, I have but one favor to beg of you:  don’t use a shot-gun on my prize chickens!  Get a dog and train him to chase them home, if they get into your yard.  Or catch them and throw them over the hedge.  I’ll pay any damages within reason.  And please send for your cat.”

“We have a cat?”