e. Flashing came a vision of the city he had left, of crowded
hospitals, of big men consulting with big men, of old men imparting their
secrets of healing to the young; of limousines speeding luxuriously on
errands of mercy; of patients pouring out their wealth to the men who had
made them well.

All this he had given up because his mother had asked it. She had spoken
of the place which his grandfather had filled, of the dignity of a
country practice, of the opportunities for research and for experiment.
At close range, the big town set between its rivers and the sea had
seemed noisy and vulgar. Its people had seemed mad in their race for
money. Its medical men had seemed to lack the fineness and finish which
come to those who move and meditate in quiet places.

But seen from afar as he saw it now, it seemed a wonder city, its tall
buildings outlined like gigantic castles against the sky. It seemed
filled to the brim with vivid life. It seemed, indeed, to call him back!

While David and Nancy talked he went out, and, from the top of the snowy
steps, surveyed his domain. Back and back in the wide stretch of country
which faced him, beyond the valleys, on the other side of the hills, were
people who would some day listen for the step of young Richard as those
who had gone before had listened for the step of his grandfather. He saw
himself going forth on stormy nights to fight pain and pestilence; to
minister to little children, to patient mothers; to men beaten down by an
enemy before whom their strength was as wax. They would wait for him,
anxious for his verdict, yet fearing it, welcoming him as a saviour, who
would stand with flaming sword between disease and the Dark Angel.

The schoolhouse was on the other side of the road. It was built of brick
like the house. Richard's grandfather had paid for the brick. He had
believed in public schools and had made this one possible. Children came
to it from all the countryside. There were other schools in the sleepy
town. This was the Crossroads school, as Richard Tyson had been the
Crossroads doctor. He had given himself to a rural community--his
journeys had been long and his life hard, but he had loved the labor.

The bell rang for the noon recess. The children appeared presently,
trudging homeward through the snow to their midday dinners. Then Anne
Warfield came out. She wore a heavy brown coat and soft brown hat. In her
hand was a small earthen dish. She strewed seeds fo