awful people."

"Awful people?" exclaimed the doctor. "It's awfully good practice,
I know. That is, in certain lines. I can't say there is very much
variety. When a really good thing occurs, it is whisked off to the
hospital and the big guns get it."

"Well, I don't like your going so much," persisted his wife.
"Some day you will get hurt."

"Hurt?" exclaimed the doctor. "Me?"

"Oh, I know you think nothing can hurt you. But a bullet or a knife
can do for you as well as for any one else. Supposing that terrible
man--what's his name?--Kalmar--had struck you instead of the Polak,
where would you be?"

"The question is, where would he be?" said the doctor with a smile.
"As for Kalmar, he's not too bad a sort; at least there are others
a little worse. I shouldn't be surprised if that fellow Rosenblatt
got only a little less than he deserved. Certainly O'Hara let in
some light upon his moral ulcers."

"Well, I wish you would drop them, anyway," continued his wife.

"No, you don't," said the doctor. "You know quite well that you
would root me out of bed any hour of the night to see any of their
kiddies that happened to have a pain in their little tumtums.
Between you and Mrs. French I haven't a moment to devote to
my large and growing practice."

"What does she want now?" It must be confessed that her tone was
slightly impatient.

"Mrs. French has succeeded in getting the excellent Mrs. Blazowski
to promise for the tenth time, I believe, to allow some one,
preferably myself, to take her eczematic children to the hospital."

"Well, she won't."

"I think it is altogether likely. But why do you think so?"

"Because you have tried before."

"Never."

"Well, Mrs. French has, and you were with her."

"That is correct. But to-day I shall adopt new tactics. Mrs. French's
flank movements have broken down. I shall carry the position with a
straight frontal attack. And I shall succeed. If not, my dear, that
little fur tippet thing which you have so resolutely refused to let
your eyes rest upon as we pass the Hudson's Bay, is yours."

"I don't want it a bit," said his wife. "And you know we can't
afford it."

"Don't you worry, little girl," said the doctor cheerfully,
"practice is looking up. My name is getting into the papers.
A few more foreign weddings with attendant killings and I
shall be famous."

At the Blazowski shack Mrs. French was waiting the doctor, and
in despair. A crowd of children appeared to fil