eavy
man who moved with dignity.

"Take this woman away," said Lovaway. "Don't let her hold me."

"Doctor, darling," whined Mrs. Doolan, "don't be saying the like of
that."

"Biddy Doolan," said the sergeant, sternly, "will you let go of the
doctor? I'd be sorry to arrest you, so I would, but arrested you'll be
if you don't get along home out of that and keep quiet."

Mrs. Doolan loosed her hold on the doctor's arm, but she did not go
home. She followed Lovaway up the street, moving, for so old a woman, at
a surprising pace.

"Doctor, dear," she said, "don't be giving medicine to them childer.
Don't do it now. You'll only anger them that's done it, and it's a
terrible thing when them ones is angry."

"Get away home out of that, Biddy Doolan," said the sergeant.

"Don't be hard on an old woman, now, sergeant," said Mrs. Doolan. "It's
for your own good and the good of your child I'm speaking. Doctor, dear,
there's no cure but the one. A cup of water from the well of Tubber
Neeve, the same to be drawn up in a new tin can that never was used. Let
the child or the man, or it might be the cow, or whatever it is, let it
drink that, a cup at a time, and let you----"

Lovaway followed by the sergeant, entered the barrack. He needed no
guiding to the room in which Molly lay. Her shrieks would have led a
blind man to her bedside.

Mrs. Doolan was stopped at the door by a burly constable. She shouted
her last advice to the doctor as he climbed the stairs.

"Let you take a handful of rowan berries and lay them on the stomach or
wherever the pain might be, and if you wrap them in a yellow cloth it
will be better; but they'll work well enough without that, only not so
quick."

Driven off by the constable Mrs. Doolan went back to Flanagan's shop.
She was quite calm and did not any longer appear to be the worse for the
porter she had drunk.

"You'll give me another sup, now, Mr. Flanagan," she said. "It's well
I deserve it. It's terrible dry work talking to a man like that one who
won't listen to a word you're saying."

Flanagan filled a large tumbler with porter and handed it to her.

"Tell me this now, Mrs. Doolan," he said.

"What's the matter with Molly Rahilly and the rest of them?"

"It's green apples," said Mrs. Doolan, "green apples that they ate in
the doctor's garden. Didn't I see the little lady sitting in the tree
and the rest of the childer with her?"

Dr. Lovaway made a somewhat similar diagnosis. He