have pains everywhere and
I think of things that make me begin to scream because I hate them so.
If there was a doctor anywhere who could make you forget you were ill
instead of remembering it I would have him brought here." And he waved
a thin hand which ought really to have been covered with royal signet
rings made of rubies. "It is because my cousin makes me forget that
she makes me better."

Dr. Craven had never made such a short stay after a "tantrum"; usually
he was obliged to remain a very long time and do a great many things.
This afternoon he did not give any medicine or leave any new orders and
he was spared any disagreeable scenes. When he went downstairs he
looked very thoughtful and when he talked to Mrs. Medlock in the
library she felt that he was a much puzzled man.

"Well, sir," she ventured, "could you have believed it?"

"It is certainly a new state of affairs," said the doctor. "And
there's no denying it is better than the old one."

"I believe Susan Sowerby's right--I do that," said Mrs. Medlock. "I
stopped in her cottage on my way to Thwaite yesterday and had a bit of
talk with her. And she says to me, 'Well, Sarah Ann, she mayn't be a
good child, an' she mayn't be a pretty one, but she's a child, an'
children needs children.' We went to school together, Susan Sowerby and
me."

"She's the best sick nurse I know," said Dr. Craven. "When I find her
in a cottage I know the chances are that I shall save my patient."

Mrs. Medlock smiled. She was fond of Susan Sowerby.

"She's got a way with her, has Susan," she went on quite volubly.
"I've been thinking all morning of one thing she said yesterday. She
says, 'Once when I was givin' th' children a bit of a preach after
they'd been fightin' I ses to 'em all, "When I was at school my
jography told as th' world was shaped like a orange an' I found out
before I was ten that th' whole orange doesn't belong to nobody. No
one owns more than his bit of a quarter an' there's times it seems like
there's not enow quarters to go round. But don't you--none o'
you--think as you own th' whole orange or you'll find out you're
mistaken, an' you won't find it out without hard knocks." 'What
children learns from children,' she says, 'is that there's no sense in
grabbin' at th' whole orange--peel an' all. If you do you'll likely
not get even th' pips, an' them's too bitter to eat.'"

"She's a shrewd woman," said Dr. Craven, putting on his coat.

"Well,