"Don't get stuffy, Amanda! Just be a good Christian and take hold here
for a few days till we see whether we've got to have a nurse from
Portland. Man's extremity is God's opportunity; maybe Caleb'll come to
his senses before he gets over this sickness."

"I wonder if he ever had any senses?" said Amanda.

"Plenty," the doctor answered as he prepared the medicines; "but he
hasn't used them for twenty years.--I'll come back in an hour and
fetch Bill Benson with me. Then I'll stay till I can bring Caleb back
to consciousness. We shall have to get him downstairs as soon as he
can be moved; it will be much easier to take care of him there."

* * * * *

The details of Caleb Kimball's illness would be such as fill a nurse's
bedside record book. The mainspring of life had been snapped and the
machinery refused to move for a long time. When he recovered
consciousness his solemn black eyes followed Amanda Dalton's movements
as if fascinated, but he spoke no word save a faltering phrase or two
at night to William Benson.

Meantime much had been happening below-stairs, where Amanda Dalton
reigned supreme, with Susan Benson and Abby Thatcher taking turns in
housework or nursing. William Benson was a painter by trade, and
Amanda's ingenious idea was to persuade him to paint and paper the
Kimball kitchen before Caleb was moved downstairs.

This struck William as a most extraordinary and unnecessary
performance.

"Israel in Egypt!" he exclaimed. "What's the matter with you women? I
never heard o' such goin's-on in my life! I might lay abed a thousand
years an' nobody'd paint my premises. Let Caleb git his strength back
an' then use a little elbow grease on his own house--you can't teach
an old dog new tricks, Susan!"

"'Pends on how old the dog is, an' what kind o' tricks you want to
teach him," Susan replied. "It'd be a queer dog that wouldn't take to
a clean kennel, or three good meals a day 'stead o' starvation
vittles. Amanda says it may be a kind of a turnin'-point in Caleb's
life, an' she thinks we'd ought to encourage him a little."

"Ain't I encouragin' him by sleepin' on his settin'-room lounge every
night an' givin' him medicine every two hours by the alarm clock? I've
got my own day's work to do; when would I paint his kitchen, I'd like
to know?"

"We thought probably you'd like to do it nights," suggested his wife
timidly.

"Saul in Tarsus! Don't that beat the devi