week I saw Bill Brooks tearing down this way on account of Mrs.
Brooks' being took kind of unexpected, and Bill losing his head and
forgetting all about Dr. Coombe being dead and Dr. Parker living on the
other side of the town."

"And you think that if I'd been here he would have 'tore' in here?"

"If he hadn't I'd just have called out to him as he went by. He was that
wild he'd have taken anybody."

"I see," with humility. "I lost a good chance there!"

"Well, if you live here you'll get others. Why, from the spare-room
windows you can see the corner window down at the Coombe place. I could
make out to let you have your meals, too. Only I'd expect you to be as
reg'lar as Providence permitted. I know a doctor is bound to be more
aggravating in that way than other folks, but if you'd be as regular as
lay in you, I'd put up with it. 'Tisn't as if I wasn't always prepared.
When will you want to move in?"

"Really, I--I don't know--" The bewildered Callandar glanced for help to
Ann, but met only clasped hands and an imploring stare. "I'll--I'll let
you know," he faltered.

Thinking it over afterwards, he could never understand why he did not
promptly refuse to be coerced, but at the time surrender seemed the only
natural thing. Besides, he couldn't stay another day at the Imperial. He
had to go somewhere. Perhaps it was his destiny to secure Ann against
further feather-beds. Anyway, he accepted it.

"Oh, goody!" cried Ann, clapping her hands.

"Ann! put your hands under those clothes. How often must I tell you that
you'll get your death? If you like, Doctor, there's nothing to prevent
your moving in to-morrow. I'll need a day to air the feather-tick and
make some pie."

The doctor was at last roused to action.

"There are conditions," he said hastily. "If I come here, there is to be
no feather-tick and no pie!"

"No feather-bed?" in amazement.

"No pie?" Ann's voice was a sorrowful whisper.

"You see," Callandar explained, "I am here partly for my health. My
health cannot lie on feather-beds nor eat pie--well, perhaps," with a
glance at Ann, "an occasional pie may do no harm. But I shall send down
some springs and a mattress. I have to use a special kind," hastily.

"Oh! it's spinal trouble, is it?" Mrs. Sykes surveyed him
commiseratingly. "You look straight enough. But land! You never can
tell. Them spinal troubles are most deceiving. Terrible things they are,
but they don't shorten life as quickly as some