oriness in matters of the highest importance "had her," so she
affirmed frequently, "that much distracted, that it would be a comfort
and a consolation to her if she were stretched cold in her grave."

At intervals during the feverish day, beings would come rushing
through the torrents, like trout in a swirling brook, and would fling
themselves and their parcels in through the door that Mrs. Mangan was
generally ready to open for them. Frantic messages from bridesmaids
about their costumes, belated wedding presents, all the surf and foam
that is flung up by the waves of a wedding, broke upon No. 6. The
bride elect, pale and preoccupied, ("pale," that is to say, "for
Tishy," as one of her compeers observed, "flushed for any one else!")
wrote notes, and exhibited presents, and packed clothes, and rode the
tempest with a fortitude that was worthy of the Big Doctor's daughter.
But even Tishy began to fail as darkness drew in.

"I can't stand this house any more," she said to her mother, "rain or
no rain, I'm going out! I didn't see Mrs. Whelply about Kathleen's"
wreath that she wrote about--"

"You'll be drowned," said Mrs. Mangan, doomfully; "and sure if Larry
comes over, what'll I say to him?"

"_He'll_ not come!" said Tishy, scornfully. "What a fool he is, a
day like this!"

"And they say the river's up in the houses down at the end of the
town," went on Mrs. Mangan. "In the name of pity why wouldn't you be
satisfied to stay at home for this once, and you leaving me for good
to-morrow!"

"Well, I'll die if I stay in this messed-up hole any longer!" said
Tishy. "I don't care how wet I get--"

Presently the front door slammed behind her; her mother said to
herself that of all the headstrong pieces--! And, further, that she
trusted in God Larry Coppinger would be able to make a hand of her;
she then, with the resignation that experience teaches to defeated
mothers, went to the kitchen, and prepared a tray with tea, and
carried it herself up to the Doctor's surgery.

"Francis, may I come in? I have tea for you and meself."

"Come in to be sure," replied Francis, hospitably. "I'll be glad of a
cup. Wait and I'll light the gas."

The Big Doctor was a faithful man, and loved his wife. He treated her
as a slave, but it was thus that she not only expected, but preferred
to be treated, and the position of a favourite slave may not be
without its compensations. He established her in the Patients' chair,
arranging it so