“That’s ’im.  That’s the bloke!” A man jumped down and advanced to Nickie, and laid hands on him.

“You’re that doctor bloke what’s selling the Rheumatic Balm, ain’t yeh?” he asked.

Nickie said nothing.  Retribution had overtaken him.  He knew that.  His fair dreams fell from him, he sighed deeply, and philosophically, as was his wont, abandoned himself to the inevitable.

There were two young men in the trap.  They hoisted Nickie to the seat behind, and drove on.  No explanation was offered, and Mr Crips expected none.  They would come, he imagined, along with the familiar penalties.  One of the young men did remark, with cheerful enthusiasm:  “You’re in fer it all right, blokie,” but Nickie the Kid only sighed.

Crips recognised the farm-house they drove to as that of the farmer with rheumatism in the back, his first customer.  One young man ran in with the news, and presently reappeared in company with a large, elderly, energetic man, who was crying, excitedly:  “Where is he?  Bring him to me!”

This large man dashed at Nickie the Kid, and fell on him bodily.  He was followed by the housewife who purchased the Rheumatic Balm, and she also fell upon Nickie, who put up a short prayer.  But to the doctor’s immense surprise he found presently that he was not being assaulted, but hugged, that it was not curses, but blessings the old couple were showering upon his head.

“Lor love yeh, I’ll never forget yeh fer this,” cried the farmer.

“Come inside an’ have a bit to eat,” exclaimed his wife.

The pair literally dragged Nickie into the house and dumped him down at a loaded table.  He was waited upon by a rather nice-looking girl of twenty.

“This is him, Millie,” said the farmer, with enthusiasm.  “This is Dr. Crips what cured yer old dad.  Gord bless you, sir.”

The girl shook Nickie by the hand, and smiled on him sweetly, and said she could never forget the man that cured her dear pa, and all Nickie’s happiness and his great content came back to him like refreshing waters.  Dr. Crips stood up straight, he shook hands enthusiastically with farmer Dickson.

“So the Rheumatic Balm has set you up again?” he said, heartily.

“Hasn’t it, by gum!  Look at this.”  The farmer capered about the room.  “Every bit o’ pain’s gone.  I’ll buy every drop of that balm you’ve got.  That’s why I had you brought back.  But sit down, and eat, man—­eat!”

They simply squandered hospitality on Nickie the Kid that night; they had neighbours in to see him; they had music, and Dr. Crips sang, and danced, and drank, and made love to Miss Dickson out under the elderberries.  Out under the elderberries, for the edification of Millie Dickson, Nicholas Crips was a medical man of high attainments, but the victim of extraordinary vicissitudes.  It was very touching, most romantic.  Nickie lied with great splendour.  He displayed no little aptitude in the character of Don Juan too.  Miss Dickson thought him a perfect dear.