had.

"The country," answered the Doctor, "is always cheerful."

Gwendolyn's spoon slipped from her fingers. She lifted eager, shining
eyes. "Moth-er," she half-whispered, "does the Doctor mean _Johnnie
Blake's?_"

The Doctor assented energetically. "I _prescribe_ Johnnie Blake's," he
declared.

"A-a-ah!" It was a deep breath of happiness. "I _promised_ Johnnie that
I'd come back!"

"But if my little daughter isn't strong--" Her father gave a sidewise
glance at the steaming bowl on the tray.

Thus prompted, Gwendolyn fell to eating once more, turning her
attention to the _croutons_ bobbing about on the broth Each was square
and crunchy, but not so brown as a bread-pill.

"I shall now read my Johnnie Blake prescription," announced the Doctor,
and held up a leaf from the pad. "Hm! Hm!" Then, in a business-like
tone; "_Take two pairs of sandals, a dozen cheap gingham dresses with
plenty of pockets and extra pieces for patches, and a bottle of
something good for wild black-berry scratches_." He bowed. "_Mix all
together with one strong medium-sized garden-hoe_--"

"Oh, fath-er," cried Gwendolyn, her hoarse voice wistful with pleading,
"_you_ won't mind if I play with Johnnie, _will_ you?"

"Play all the time," answered her father. "Play hard--and then play
some more."

"He _isn't_ a common little boy." Whereupon, satisfied, she returned to
the blue bowl.

"And now," went on the Doctor, "as to directions." He held up other
leaves from the pad. "First week (you'll have to go easy the first
week), use the prescription each day as follows; When driving; also when
lying on back watching birds in trees (and have a nap out of doors if
you feel like it); also when lighting the fire at sundown. Nurse, here,
will watch out for fingers."

At that, another pleased little chuckle.

"Second week:" (the Doctor coughed, importantly) "When riding your own
fat pony, or chasing butterflies--assisted by one good-natured, common,
ordinary, long-haired dog; or when fishing (stream or bath-tub, it
doesn't matter!) or carrying kindling in to Cook--whether you're tired
or not!"

"I _love_ it!"

"Third week: When baking mudpies, or gathering ferns (but put 'em in
water when you get home); when jaunting in old wagon to hay-field,
orchard or vegetable-patch--this includes tomboy yelling. And go
barefoot."

Gwendolyn's spoon, _crouton_-laden, wabbled in mid-air. "Go _barefoot?_"
she repeated, small face flushing to a pleased pin