Pearl was just going out of the kitchen with her hat and coat on when Mrs. Motherwell came in.

“Where are you going, Pearl,” she asked.

“To git someone to go for the doctor,” Pearl answered stoutly.

“Is he worse?” Mrs. Motherwell asked quickly.

“He can’t git worse,” Pearl replied grimly.  “If he gits worse he’ll be dead.”

Mrs. Motherwell called Tom at once, and told him to bring the doctor as soon as he could.

“Where’s my overcoat mother?” Tom called from the hall.

“Take your father’s” she said, “he is going to get a new one while he is in Winnipeg, that one’s too small for him now.  I put yours outside to air.  It had a queer smell on it I thought, and now hurry, Tom.  Bring Dr. Barner.  I think he’s the best for a serious case.  Dr. Clay is too young, Anyway, the old man knowns far more than he does, if you can only get him sober.”

Pearl’s heart sank.

“Arthur’s as good as dead,” she said as she went to the granary, crying softly to herself.  “Dr. Clay is the only man who could save him, and they won’t have him.”

The sun had gone down and heavy clouds filled the sky.  Not a star was to be seen, and the night was growing darker and darker.

A sound of wheels came from across the creek, coming rapidly down the road.  The old dog barked viciously.  A horse driven at full speed dashed through the yard; Pearl ran shouting after, for even in the gathering darkness she recognised the one person in all the world who could save Arthur.  But the wind and the barking of the dog drowned her voice, and the sound of the doctor’s wheels grew fainter in the distance.

Only for a moment was Pearl dismayed.

“I’ll catch him coming back,” she said, “if I have to tie binding twine across the road to tangle up Pleurisy’s long legs.  He’s on his way to Cowan’s, I know.  Ab Cowan has quinsy.  Never mind, Thursa, we’ll get him.  I hope now that the old doctor is too full to come—­oh, no I don’t either, I just hope he’s away and Dr. Clay will have it done before he gets here.”

When Tom arrived in Millford he found a great many people thronging the streets.  One of the Ontario’s harvesters’ excursions had arrived a few hours before, and the “Huron and Bruce” boys were already making themselves seen and heard.

Tom went at once to Dr. Barner’s office and found that the doctor was out making calls, but would be back in an hour.  Not at all displeased at having some time to spend, Tom went back to the gaily lighted front street.  The crowds of men who went in and out of the hotels seemed to promise some excitement.

Inside of the Grand Pacific, a gramophone querulously sang “Any Rags, Any Bones, Any Bottles To-day” to a delighted company of listeners.

When Tom entered he was received with the greatest cordiality by the bartender and others.

“Here is life and good-fellowship,” Tom thought to himself, “here’s the place to have a good time.”