mself from the window-sill,
and set the lawnmower on another zigzag journey. His hat, his coat,
and his trousers hung limper than ever. He moved wearily, and at the
end of the garden he sat down under a cherry-tree to muse on the
strange, sad fact that his new employer promised to be not one whit
more companionable than old Doc. Williams.

The young doctor finished his work, and went up the stairs three steps
at a time, making a commotion that brought Mrs. Munn from her
pie-baking in hurried alarm. He washed his hands, resumed his coat,
and, leaning out of the window, wished with all his might that he had
something to do. He was seized with an honest, pagan desire that some
one would get sick, or that there might be an accident in the
mill---just a mild accident, of course; or, better still, that that
queer specimen of humanity sitting under his cherry-tree, down there,
should be smitten with paralysis. He confessed that this last seemed
the most hopeful outlook, then laughed at himself for his monstrous
wishes. He seized his hat and ran downstairs. He would go out and
explore the village. He must do something, he warned himself, or he
would be in danger of rushing into the street and lacerating the first
man he met, just for the sake of sewing him up again.

He passed out to the gate. The long, shady village street, bordered by
tall, swaying elms, stretched away on either hand, peaceful and
deserted. To the new doctor the place looked half asleep, and
uncompromisingly healthful. The clear May morning air was filled with
a chorus of robins and orioles. A bluebird in the orchard bordering
his lawn was singing ecstatically. Far up the street the musical
cling-clang of the blacksmith's anvil, and from the depths of the
ravine, in the opposite direction, the hum of the sawmill, served only
like a lullaby to make the silence more dreamy.

He stepped out upon the boardwalk that ran along the street. Overhead
the maples and elms met, making a cool tunnel. In this green canopy
nest-building was being carried on, on a great scale and with
tremendous commotion. The doctor picked his way carefully along the
undulating surface of the sidewalk, for the boards were damp and
rotten, and liable to fly up at one end and break a limb; and though he
was anxious for a patient, he did not fancy serving in that capacity
himself.

The quiet houses, surrounded by their demure gardens, gave no
indication that he was being w