have pains everywhere and
I think of things that make me begin to scream because I hate them so.
If there was a doctor anywhere who could make you forget you were ill
instead of remembering it I would have him brought here." And he waved a
thin hand which ought really to have been covered with royal signet
rings made of rubies. "It is because my cousin makes me forget that she
makes me better."

Dr. Craven had never made such a short stay after a "tantrum"; usually
he was obliged to remain a very long time and do a great many things.
This afternoon he did not give any medicine or leave any new orders and
he was spared any disagreeable scenes. When he went down-stairs he
looked very thoughtful and when he talked to Mrs. Medlock in the library
she felt that he was a much puzzled man.

"Well, sir," she ventured, "could you have believed it?"

"It is certainly a new state of affairs," said the doctor. "And there's
no denying it is better than the old one."

"I believe Susan Sowerby's right--I do that," said Mrs. Medlock. "I
stopped in her cottage on my way to Thwaite yesterday and had a bit of
talk with her. And she says to me, 'Well, Sarah Ann, she mayn't be a
good child, an' she mayn't be a pretty one, but she's a child, an'
children needs children.' We went to school together, Susan Sowerby and
me."

"She's the best sick nurse I know," said Dr. Craven. "When I find her in
a cottage I know the chances are that I shall save my patient."

Mrs. Medlock smiled. She was fond of Susan Sowerby.

"She's got a way with her, has Susan," she went on quite volubly. "I've
been thinking all morning of one thing she said yesterday. She says,
'Once when I was givin' th' children a bit of a preach after they'd been
fightin' I ses to 'em all, "When I was at school my jography told as
th' world was shaped like a orange an' I found out before I was ten
that th' whole orange doesn't belong to nobody. No one owns more than
his bit of a quarter an' there's times it seems like there's not enow
quarters to go round. But don't you--none o' you--think as you own th'
whole orange or you'll find out you're mistaken, an' you won't find it
out without hard knocks." What children learns from children,' she says,
'is that there's no sense in grabbin' at th' whole orange--peel an' all.
If you do you'll likely not get even th' pips, an' them's too bitter to
eat.'"

"She's a shrewd woman," said Dr. Craven, putting on his coat.

"Well, she's got