“No,” I answered, “but I’ll tell you what I think they’re going to need.  And that’s an owner!”

CHAPTER VI

THE CONSPIRACY

I’m not making any excuses.  I did it for the best.  In any sort of crisis there are always folks who stand around and wring their hands and say, “What shall we do?” And then if it’s a fire and somebody has had enough sense to send for the engines, they say:  “Just look at what the water did!” Although as far as I can see I’m the only one that suffered any damage.

If Mr. Thoburn had not been there, sitting by to see the old sanatorium die so it could sprout wings and fly as a summer hotel, I’d never have thought of it.  But I was in despair.

I got up and opened the door, but the Snow came in in a cloud, and the path was half a foot deep again.  It shows on what little threads big things hang, for when I saw the storm I gave up the idea of bringing Mr. Sam down to see the young man, and the breath of fresh air in my face brought me to my senses.

But the angel of providence appeared in the shape of Mike, the bath man, coming down through the snow in a tearing rage.  The instant I saw Mike I knew it was settled.

“Am I or am I not to give Mr. Moody a needle shower?” he shouted, almost beside himself.  And I saw he had his overcoat over his bath costume, which is a Turkish towel.

“A needle shower followed by a salt rub,” said I.  “He’s been having them for eleven years.  What’s the matter?”

“That fool of a young doctor,” shouted Mike, “he told him before he left that if he’d been taking them for eleven years and wasn’t any better it was time to stop.  Ain’t business bad enough—­only four people in the house takin’ baths regular—­without his buttin’ in!”

“Where’s Mr. Moody?”

“In the bath.  I’ve locked up his clothes.”

“You give him a needle shower and a salt rub,” I ordered, “and if he makes a fuss just send for me.  And, Mike,” I said, as he started out, “ask Mr. Van Alstyne to come out here immediately.”

That’s the way it was all the time.  Everybody brought their troubles to me, and I guess I thought I was a little tin god on wheels and the place couldn’t get along without me.  But it did; it does.  We all think we’ll leave a big hole behind us when we go, but it’s just like taking your thumb out of a bowl of soup.  There isn’t even a dent.

Mr. Van Alstyne came out on the run, and when he saw Mr. Pierce by the fire—­that was his name, Alan Pierce—­he stopped and stared.  Then he said: 

“You infernal young scamp!” And with that Mr. Pierce jumped up, surprised and pretty mad, and Mr. Van Alstyne saw his mistake.

“I’m sure I beg your pardon!” he said.  “The fact is, I was expecting somebody else, and in the firelight—­”

“You surprised me, that’s all,” said Mr. Pierce.  “Under the circumstances, I’m glad I’m not the other chap.”