he pit-a-patter of his racking horse, and had
learned to clap her hands and crow when she heard it. The Creole had the
same grave simplicity for children, as for his equals. It never failed
to win them.

Often Kate drove with him on his rounds, the child on her knees, because
she needed air and was not yet strong enough for riding; and in this way
she saw a side of her friend which had hitherto been unknown to her. It
was true, as Basil Kildare had said, that Dr. Jones "had a corner on the
births and deaths in the neighborhood," but between the two extremes
there were various physical disabilities which "the French doctor," as
he was called, was allowed to treat, especially when there was no money
for payment. With increasing frequency he was called in by the older
physician to cases which proved baffling; and it became known that when
the French doctor prescribed expensive medicines and nourishing
luxuries, they were invariably forthcoming, whether they could be paid
for or not.

With this the young mistress of Storm had much to do; and while this
fact did not apparently lessen the neighborhood's attitude of critical
animosity toward her, it gave the girl a keen pleasure to know that she
was helping her friend. She began to understand the secret of the strong
hold his profession has upon those who follow it truly--that warmly
personal relation between the sufferer and his physician which is almost
filial in its intensity. Jacques loved his patients, and they loved him.
But it was not a lucrative practice.

She was witness to one little scene that came often to her memory in
after days. He had stopped to visit a young farm laborer whom he had
recently relieved of a stomach-trouble that was literally starving him
to death. An old woman had followed him to the door of the cabin, her
work-worn hands twisting together, her lips too tremulous for speech.

"But your troubles are over, Mrs. Higgs!" he smiled, lifting his hat
with the punctilious courtesy he showed all women. "Live? Certainly he
will live, and in a few weeks we shall have him walking about, eating
you out of house and home."

Still the old creature was unable to speak; but she seized the hand he
held out to her, and carried it to her lips. When he withdrew it, in
laughing embarrassment, there were tears upon it.

At last her voice came, hoarsely: "I don' know what it's goin' to cost,
an' I don't, keer! It's wuth every cent, an' I'll wuk my fingers to the