. It was like a pent-up stream
that had burst from its dam, and the flood was not yet exhausted.

"I felt like cursing the lot of them," he continued, "and giving them the
tongue-lashing of their lives. But much good it would have done, and I
managed to hold myself back! I couldn't help telling them that they
should have sent for me three days ago, when things began to go wrong.
They know well enough how to weep over their misery, but no one can make
them use their silly heads. They keep on coming with infected gurry sores
as if arms could be saved after they've nearly rotted away, and send for
me to see the dying, as if I could raise them from their beds."

He had stopped suddenly, and looked embarrassed.

"I beg your pardon," he said. "I should not have spoken of these things.
They are all a part of the game. I daresay I ought to have gone up on the
hill, back of the cliffs, and had a good bout of bad language all to
myself, where none could hear me."

Neither the parson nor his wife appeared to be the least bit shocked at
this. They knew from long experience the things that try men's souls.

"I'm glad you've spoken," I told him. "It has relieved you, I'm sure, and
we all sympathize with you."

Long ago, Aunt Jennie, you told me that a man is nothing but a grown-up
boy. This one looked around the room. Daddy was smiling at him in his
dear friendly fashion, and the other two were kindliness itself.

"A fellow doesn't always take his medicine like a little man," he said,
apologetically, "and you're all ever so good."

Then he left, still looking just a little bit ashamed of himself, as I've
seen fellows do in a defeated crew when they have sunk down for a moment
on their sliding seats.

"I think the boy feels alone, sometimes," said Mrs. Barnett. "He has
really a great deal to contend with. But he is a splendid fellow, and I'm
sorry for him. Every one loves him in Sweetapple Cove, you know."

Presently the two left us, after I had promised to go to the little
church on the next day. Susie had come in with a lighted lantern, clad to
her feet in an ancient oilskin coat, and insisted on seeing them home.
They thanked us very charmingly and I watched their departure, the
reflections of the light playing over the deep puddles on the road.

Then I sat down by Daddy's bed, pondering.

"A penny for your thoughts, daughter," he said.

"I was thinking that men are very interesting," I told him. "Dr. Grant
always loo