But their happiness is of short duration.  A loud ring at the bell.

“Patient in the office, sir,” announces the attendant.

The doctor utters a half-impatient exclamation; but the wife expresses only thankfulness that it is an office patient.

“Fine night for a sick person to come out!” muttered the doctor, as he unwillingly lays down his book, and rises from the comfortable lounge.

But he is himself again by the time his hand is on the door of the office, and it is with real interest that he greets his patient.

“Tooth to be extracted?  Sit down, sir.  Here, Biddy, bring water and a brighter lamp.  Have courage, sir; one moment will end it.”

The hall door closes on the relieved sufferer, and the doctor throws himself again on the lounge, and smilingly puts the bright half dollar in his pocket.

“That was not so bad, after all, Mary.  I like to make fifty cents in that way.”

“Cruel creature!  Do not mention it.”

“Cruel!  The poor man blessed me in his heart.  Did I not relieve him from the most intense suffering?”

“Well, never mind.  I hope there will be no more calls to-night.”

“So do I. Where is the book?  I will read again.”  No more interruptions.  Another hour, and all, are sleeping quietly.

Midnight has passed, when the sound of the bell falls on the doctor’s wakeful ear.  As quickly as possible he answers it in person, but another peal is heard ere he reaches the door.

A gentleman to whose family he has frequently been called, appears.

“Oh! doctor, lose not a moment; my little Willie is dying with the croup!”

There is no resisting this appeal.  The still wet overcoat and boots are drawn on; medicine case hastily seized, and the doctor rushes forth again into the storm.

Pity for his faithful horse induces him to traverse the distance on foot, and a rapid walk of half a mile brings him to the house.

It was no needless alarm.  The attack was a severe one, and all his skill was required to save the life of the little one.  It was daylight ere he could leave him with safety.  Then, as he was about departing for his own home, an express messenger arrived to entreat him to go immediately to another place nearly a mile in an opposite direction.

Breakfast was over ere he reached his own house.  His thoughtful wife suggested a nap; but a glance at the already well-filled slate showed this to be out of the question.  A hasty toilet, and still hastier breakfast, and the doctor is again seated in his chaise, going on his accustomed rounds; but we will not now accompany him.

Let us pass over two or three months, and invite ourselves to another ride.  One pleasant morning, when less pressed with business, he walks leisurely from the house to the chaise, and gathering up the reins with a remarkably thoughtful air, rides slowly down the street.