ou have been
saying. Anyway, I shall not be angry, and I shall wait three weeks and
see what happens, and if everything is all wrong then, the responsibility
will rest on you."

"Very good," said he, "I agree to the terms. It is a bargain."

Now Miss Dora seemed troubled again. She took up her muff, put it down,
drew her furs about her, then let them fall again, and finally turned
toward the physician, who had also risen.

"Doctor," she said, "I don't want you to put this visit in the family
bill. I wish to--to attend to it myself. How much should I pay you?" and
she took out her little pocketbook.

Dr. Tolbridge put his hands behind him.

"This case is out of my usual line of practice," he said, "and my
ordinary schedule of fees does not apply to it. For advice such as I have
given you I never charge money. I take nothing but cats."

"What!" exclaimed Miss Dora; "what on earth do you mean?"

"I mean cats," he replied, "or rather kittens. I am very fond of kittens,
and at present we have not one in the house. So, if you have a kitten--"

"Dr. Tolbridge," cried Miss Dora, her eyes sparkling, "do you really mean
that? Would you truly like to have an Angora kitten?"

"That is exactly the breed I want," he answered.

"Why, I have five," she said; "they are only four days old, and perfect
beauties. I shall be charmed to give you one, and I will pick out the
very prettiest for you. As soon as it is old enough, I will bring it to
you, already named, and with a ribbon on its neck. What color would you
like the ribbon to be?"

"For Angoras, blue," he said; "I shall be so glad to have a kitten like
that; but remember that you must not bring it to me until its eyes are
opened, and it has--"

"Doctor," interrupted Miss Dora, raising her forefinger, "you were just
on the point of saying, 'and has shed its milk mind.' Now I am going away
before you make me angry again."

When his patient had gone, Dr. Tolbridge put another log on the fire,
shook up the cushions of the sofa, and lay down to continue his nap.

CHAPTER II

MISS PANNEY

The Witton family, distant relatives of Miss Panney, with whom she had
lived for many years, resided on a farm in the hilly country above
Thorbury, and when Mrs. Tolbridge had rattled through the town, she found
the country road very rough and bad--hard and bumpy in some places, and
soft and muddy in others; but Buckskin was in fine spirits and pulled her
bravely on.

When sh