“Yes?” said Miss Margaret.

“Um—­m,” nodded the doctor.  “Yes, and I’m pretty well fixed.  I wasn’t always so comfortable off.  It went a long while till I got to doin’ pretty good, and sometimes I got tired waitin’ fur my luck to come.  It made me ugly dispositioned, my bad luck did.  That’s how I got in the way of addicting to profane language.  I sayed, still, I wisht, now, the good Lord would try posperity on me fur a while—­fur adwersity certainly ain’t makin’ me a child of Gawd, I sayed.  But now,” he added, rubbing his knees with satisfaction,” I’m fixed nice.  Besides my doctor’s fees, I got ten acres, and three good hommies that’ll be cows till a little while yet.  And that there organ in the front room is my property.  Bought it fifteen years ago on the instalment plan.  I leave missus keep it settin’ in her parlor fur style that way.  Do you play the organ?”

“I can,” was Miss Margaret’s qualified answer.

“I always liked music—­high-class music—­like ‘Pinnyfore.’  That’s a nopery I heard in Lancaster there one time at the rooft-garden.  That was high-toned music, you bet.  No trash about that.  Gimme somepin nice and ketchy.  That’s what I like.  If it ain’t ketchy, I don’t take to it.  And so,” he added admiringly, “you can play the organ too!”

“That’s one of my distinguished accomplishments,” said Miss Margaret,

“Well, say!” The doctor leaned forward and took her into his confidence.  “I don’t mind if my wife is smart, so long as she don’t bother me any!”

With this telling climax, the significance of which Miss Margaret could hardly mistake, the doctor fell back again in his chair, and regarded with complacency the comely young woman before him.

But before she could collect her shocked wits to reply, the entrance of Jake Getz’s son, Sammy, interrupted them.  He had come into the house at the kitchen door, and, having announced the object of his errand to the landlady, who, by the way, was his father’s sister, he was followed into the sitting-room by a procession, consisting of his aunt, her husband, and their two little daughters.

Sammy was able to satisfy but meagerly the eager curiosity or interest of the household as to Tillie’s illness, and his aunt, cousins, and uncle presently returned to their work in the kitchen or out of doors, while the doctor rose reluctantly to go to the stables to hitch up.

“Pop says to say you should hurry,” said Sammy.

“There’s time plenty,” petulantly answered the doctor.  “I conceited I’d stay settin’ with you this evening,” he said regretfully to Miss Margaret.  “But a doctor can’t never make no plans to stay no-wheres!  Well!” he sighed, “I’ll go round back now and hitch a while.”