He was the “doctor” and had been called to attend Muriel Elsie, Sister’s best and largest doll.  The children had started this new game one day.

“Oh, Doctor!” fluttered Sister, much worried.  “Can’t you give her something?”

The doctor sat down on the window-seat and considered.

“You ate all the peppermints up,” he told Muriel Elsie’s “mother.”  Then he went on:  “And Louise hid the box of chocolates.  No, I don’t believe I can give her any medicines.”

“Yes, you can,” urged the little mother, hurriedly.  “Go to the drug store; that’s where Doctor Yarrow gets all his pills and things.”

“Where—­where is the drugstore?” stammered the doctor.

He was used to having Sister tell him.  She usually planned their games.

“Why, it’s—­it’s—­” Sister looked about her desperately.  Where should she say the drugstore was?  “I know,” she cried.  “Over to Grandma’s—­hurry!”

Grandmother Hastings glanced up from her sewing in surprise as Brother and Sister tumbled up the steps of the side porch where she sat.

“Oh, Grandma!” and Sister fell over the Boston fern in her eagerness to explain the play.  “Grandma, Muriel Elsie is ever so sick, and Roddy is the doctor; and we have to go to the drugstore to get medicine for her.  Have you any?  You have, haven’t you, Grandma?”

“Dear me,” said Grandmother Hastings, adjusting her glasses.  “Muriel Elsie is very ill, is she?  Well, now, what kind of medicine do you think she needs?”

“Muriel Elsie likes medicine that tastes good,” explained Sister.

“Well, I must put on my thinking-cap,” said dear Grandmother Hastings.  “I didn’t know I was keeping a ‘drug store’ till this minute, you see.”

The children were as quiet as two little mice, so that Grandmother might think better.

“I know!” she cried in a moment.  “I think I have the very thing!  Come on out in the kitchen with me.”

They pattered after her and watched while she lifted down a large pasteboard box from a cupboard.  From this box she took several tiny round boxes, such as druggists use for pills.

“I think Muriel Elsie needs two kinds of medicine,” said Grandmother gravely.  “Now if you want to watch me put it up, there’s nothing to hinder you.”

Grandmother Hastings could play “pretend” beautifully, as Brother and Sister often said.  Now she opened her shining white bread box and took out a loaf of white bread and one of brown.  She washed her hands carefully at the sink, tied on a big white apron and brought the sugar and cinnamon from the pantry.

“Oh, Grandma!” squeaked Brother in joyful excitement.  “What are you going to do?”

“Why, get some medicine ready for Muriel Elsie,” answered his grandmother, making believe to be surprised.  “Didn’t you want me to?”

“Of course—­don’t mind him, Grandma,” said Sister scornfully.  “I’d like to keep a drug store when I grow up.”