the name."

"Same thing," remarked the Young Doctor. "They call him Giggles for
short. You've seen him of course?"

"No, I've been dealing with him so far through a third party. Why's he
called Giggles?" asked the Master of Tralee.

"Well, you'll know when you see him. He's not cut according to
everybody's measure. If you're dealing with him, don't think him a fool
because he chirrups, and don't size him up according to his looks. He's
a dude. Some call him The Duke, but mostly he's known as Giggles."

"Fools weary me," grumbled the other.

"Well, as I said, you mustn't begin dealing with him on the basis of his
looks. Looks don't often tell the truth. For instance, you're known as
a Christian and a Methodist!" He looked the old man slowly up and down,
and in anyone else it would have seemed gross insolence, but the urbane
smile at his lips belied the malice of his words. "Well, you know you
don't look like a Methodist. You look like,"--innocence showed in his
eye; there was no ulterior purpose in his face, "you look like one of
the bad McMahon lot of claim-jumpers over there in the foothills. I
suppose that seems so, only because ranchman aren't generally pious.
Well, in the same way, Giggles doesn't really look like a ranchman;
but he's every bit as good a ranchman as you are a Christian and a
Methodist!"

The Young Doctor looked the old man in the face with such a semblance
of honesty that he succeeded in disarming a dangerous suspicion of
mockery--dangerous, if he was to continue family physician at Tralee.
"Ah," he suddenly remarked, "there comes Orlando now!" He pointed to a
spot about half a mile away, where a horseman could be seen cantering
slowly towards Tralee.

A moment afterwards, from his buggy, the Young Doctor said: "Mrs.
Mazarine must be left alone until I see her again. She must not be
disturbed. The half-breed woman can look after her. I've told her what
to do. You'll keep to another room, of course."

"There's a bunk in that room where I could sleep," said the other, with
a note of protest.

"I'm afraid that, in our patient's interest, you must do what I say,"
the other insisted, with a friendly smile which caused him a great
effort. "If I make her bloom again, that will suit you, won't it?"

A look of gloating came into the other's eyes: "Let it go at that," he
said. "Mebbe I'll take her over to the sea before the wheat-harvest."

Out on the Askatoon trail, the Young Doctor ruminated o