the lamp
away and replaced his red-buttoned cap with a black felt hat. Then he
silently preceded her down the steps to the road. Only when the light of
her home shone plainly ahead of them, did he leave her.

They had not spoken on the way. But as he bowed a good night, she
addressed him. "I thank you," she said. "And may I ask your name?"

"Kwa"--he began, and stopped. Emotion for an instant softened his
impassive countenance. He turned away. "Fong Wu," he added, and was
gone.

The following afternoon the crunch of cart wheels before the
square-fronted house announced her coming. Fong Wu closed "The Book of
Virtue," and stepped out upon the porch.

A white man was seated beside her in the vehicle. As she sprang from it,
light-footed and smiling, and mounted the steps, she indicated him
politely to the Chinese.

"This is my husband," she said. "I have told him how kind you were to me
last night."

Fong Wu nodded.

Barrett hastened to voice his gratitude. "I certainly am very much
obliged to you," he said. "My wife might have been bitten by the
rattler, or she might have lain all night in pain if you hadn't found
her. And I want to say that your treatment was splendid. Why, her arm
hasn't swollen or hurt her. I'll be hanged if I can see--you're such a
good doctor--why you stay in this----"

Fong Wu interrupted him. "I will wet the bandage with medicine," he
said, and entered the house.

They watched him with some curiosity as he treated the sprain and
studied the pulse. When he brought out her second cup of steaming herbs,
Mrs. Barrett looked up at him brightly.

"You know we're up here for Mr. Barrett's health," she said. "A year or
so after we were married, he was hurt in a railway collision. Since
then, though his wounds healed nicely, he has never been quite well. Dr.
Lord, our family physician, prescribed plenty of rough work, and a quiet
place, far from the excitement of a town or city. Now, all this morning,
when I realized how wonderful it was that my arm wasn't aching, I've
been urging my husband--what do you suppose?--to come and be examined by
you!"

Fong Wu, for the first time, looked fully at the white man, marking the
sallow, clayey face, with its dry, lined skin, its lusterless eyes and
drooping lids.

Barrett scowled at his wife. "Nonsense, dear," he said crossly; "you
know very well that Lord would never forgive me."

"But Fong Wu might help you," she declared.

Fong Wu's black eyes w