brace with tearful eyes, and as the doctor springs
quickly into his chaise, and wheels around the corner, she sighs deeply
as she looks at the dressing-gown and slippers, and thinks of the
favourite dish which she had prepared for dinner; and now it may be
night before he comes again. But she becomes more cheerful as she
remembers that a less busy season will come, and then they will enjoy
the recompense of this hard labour.

The day wears away, and at length comes the happy hour when gown and
slippers may be brought into requisition. The storm still rages without,
but there is quiet happiness within. The babies are sleeping, and father
and mother are in that snug little parlour, with its bright light and
cheerful fire. The husband is not too weary to read aloud, and the wife
listens, while her hands are busied with woman's never-ending work.

But their happiness is of short duration. A loud ring at the bell.

"Patient in the office, sir," announces the attendant.

The doctor utters a half-impatient exclamation; but the wife expresses
only thankfulness that it is an office patient.

"Fine night for a sick person to come out!" muttered the doctor, as he
unwillingly lays down his book, and rises from the comfortable lounge.

But he is himself again by the time his hand is on the door of the
office, and it is with real interest that he greets his patient.

"Tooth to be extracted? Sit down, sir. Here, Biddy, bring water and a
brighter lamp. Have courage, sir; one moment will end it."

The hall door closes on the relieved sufferer, and the doctor throws
himself again on the lounge, and smilingly puts the bright half dollar
in his pocket.

"That was not so bad, after all, Mary. I like to make fifty cents in
that way."

"Cruel creature! Do not mention it."

"Cruel! The poor man blessed me in his heart. Did I not relieve him from
the most intense suffering?"

"Well, never mind. I hope there will be no more calls to-night."

"So do I. Where is the book? I will read again." No more interruptions.
Another hour, and all, are sleeping quietly.

Midnight has passed, when the sound of the bell falls on the doctor's
wakeful ear. As quickly as possible he answers it in person, but another
peal is heard ere he reaches the door.

A gentleman to whose family he has frequently been called, appears.

"Oh! doctor, lose not a moment; my little Willie is dying with the
croup!"

There is no resisting this appeal. The still we