her, the rector's wife, asking
him if he would be so good as to act as chloroformist. It would be
inhumanity to refuse, as there was no other who could take the place,
but it was gall and wormwood to his sensitive nature. Yet, in spite of
his vexation, he could not but admire the dexterity with which the
thing was done. She handled the little wax-like foot so gently, and
held the tiny tenotomy knife as an artist holds his pencil. One
straight insertion, one snick of a tendon, and it was all over without
a stain upon the white towel which lay beneath. He had never seen
anything more masterly, and he had the honesty to say so, though her
skill increased his dislike of her. The operation spread her fame
still further at his expense, and self-preservation was added to his
other grounds for detesting her. And this very detestation it was
which brought matters to a curious climax.

One winter's night, just as he was rising from his lonely dinner, a
groom came riding down from Squire Faircastle's, the richest man in the
district, to say that his daughter had scalded her hand, and that
medical help was needed on the instant. The coachman had ridden for
the lady doctor, for it mattered nothing to the Squire who came as long
as it were speedily. Dr. Ripley rushed from his surgery with the
determination that she should not effect an entrance into this
stronghold of his if hard driving on his part could prevent it. He did
not even wait to light his lamps, but sprang into his gig and flew off
as fast as hoof could rattle. He lived rather nearer to the Squire's
than she did, and was convinced that he could get there well before her.

And so he would but for that whimsical element of chance, which will
for ever muddle up the affairs of this world and dumbfound the
prophets. Whether it came from the want of his lights, or from his
mind being full of the thoughts of his rival, he allowed too little by
half a foot in taking the sharp turn upon the Basingstoke road. The
empty trap and the frightened horse clattered away into the darkness,
while the Squire's groom crawled out of the ditch into which he had
been shot. He struck a match, looked down at his groaning companion,
and then, after the fashion of rough, strong men when they see what
they have not seen before, he was very sick.

The doctor raised himself a little on his elbow in the glint of the
match. He caught a glimpse of something white and sharp bristling
thro