North had to have crutches when her back was all right.
Nothin' was out of kilter but her legs, and only one of 'em at that."

"Here's your paper, Mother." Roger pulled _The Metropolitan Weekly_ out
of his pocket.

"Lay it down on the table, please. It oughtn't to have come until
to-morrow. I ain't got time for it now."

"Why, Mother? Don't you want to read?"

[Sidenote: Proper Care]

The knot of hair on the back of Miss Mattie's head seemed to rise, and
her protruding wire hairpins bristled. "I should think you'd know," she
said, indignantly, "when you've been takin' time from the law to read
your pa's books to Barbara North, that no sick person has got the
strength to read. Even if my disease is only in one word when hers is in
three, I reckon I'm goin' to take proper care of myself."

"But you're sitting up and she can't," explained Roger, kindly.

"Sittin' up or not sittin' up ain't got nothin' to do with it. If my
back was set in mortar as it ought to have been, I wouldn't be settin'
up either. I can't get up without screamin', and as long as I've knowed
Barbara she's never been that bad. That new-fangled doctor hasn't come
out of North's yet, either. How much do you reckon he charges for a
visit?"

"Two or three dollars, I suppose."

Miss Mattie clucked sharply with her false teeth. "'Cordin' to that,"
she calculated, "he was here about twenty cents' worth. But I'm willin'
to give him a quarter--that's a nickel extra for the time he was writin'
out the recipe for them long narrow pills that would choke anybody but a
horse if they happened to go down crossways. There he comes, now. If he
don't come here of his own accord, you go out and get him, Roger. I want
he should finish his visit."

[Sidenote: The Doctor's Visit]

But it was not necessary for Roger to go. "Of his own accord," Doctor
Conrad came across the street and opened the creaky white gate. When he
came in, he brought with him the atmosphere of vitality and good cheer.
He had, too, that gentle sympathy which is the inestimable gift of the
physician, and which requires no words to make itself felt.

His quick eye noted the box of capsules upon the table, as he sat down
and took Miss Mattie's rough, work-worn hand in his. "How is it?" he
asked. "Better?"

"Mebbe," she answered, grudgingly. "No more'n a mite, though."

"That's all we can expect so soon. By to-morrow morning, though, you
should be all right." His manner unconsciously indica