"What say?"

"I said that it must be a queer town."

"I'm a little hard of hearing, now and agin. But I gather you're not a
church-going man. It's a great church-going place, is Coombe. Old Doc.
Simmonds was a Methody. We were kind of hoping the next one might be a
change. There's two churches of Presbyterians and they're tumble folk
for hanging together."

The doctor laughed. "Thanks for the tip. I'll remember. Coombe is
considered a healthy place, isn't it?"

"Danged healthy."

The commiseration in the other's tone lent to the simple question such
an obvious meaning that the doctor hardly knew whether to be amused
or annoyed.

"Heavens, man! I'm not an undertaker. I asked because I'm rather rocky
myself. That is, partly, why I'm here."

The mournful one nodded. "Good a reason as any," he assented sadly.

"By the way--er--there used to be a Dr. Coombe here, didn't there?
Didn't he live somewhere hereabouts?"

The sad one turned his meditative eyes from their focus upon the horse's
back and rested them upon the open and guileleas face by his side. Then
from deep down in his brawny throat came a sudden sound. It was
unmistakably a chuckle. Without the slightest trace of an accompanying
smile, the sound was startling.

"What's the matter?" asked the doctor irritably.

"Nothing. Only when anybody's seen Esther, they always start asking
about old Doc. Coombe. It gives them a kind of opening. Yes, that's the
old Coombe place--over there. The one with the fir trees and the big elm
by the gate."

"A pleasant house," said Callandar in a detached voice.

"So-so. The old Doc. uster putter around considerable. But they say his
widow isn't doing much to keep it up. Tumble flighty woman, so they say.
Young, you know, just about young enough to be the old Doc.'s
daughter--"

"But--"

"Oh! Esther ain't her child. Esther's ma died when she was a baby. There
is a child, though, Jane they call her, a pindling little thing. But
p'r'aps you've met Jane too?"

"I did not say--"

"No, but I thought likely if you'd met one, you'd have met the other.
Jane's nearly always hanging around Esther 'cept in school hours. Awful
fond of Esther she is. Folks say that Esther's more of a mother to Jane
than her own ma. But I dunno. Alviry says it's a shame the way Esther's
put upon; all the cares of the house when she had ought to be playing
with her dolls. Stepmother with 'bout as much sense as a fly. Old Aunt
Amy, nice sort o