Nevertheless, he had a certain lumbering airiness
of movement, and such a mien of lofty indifference to his surroundings
that the beholder was impressed with the idea that he was a very
sprightly gentleman indeed, and need never work unless he was so
minded. Just why he should spend a whole morning cutting a few square
yards of short May grass was a problem the doctor had not yet solved.
But even in his brief acquaintance, Gilbert had learned that the
actions of this young man, who had entered into an important relation
to himself as groom and general factotum, were not to be measured by
any rational standard.

The slow clatter of the lawnmower grew louder, and finally ceased
beneath the window. The doctor turned, a bottle in each hand. The
open sash was filled by a straw hat which formed the frame for a broad,
smiling countenance.

"Want any help?" the visitor inquired, genially.

"No, thank you," answered the doctor, adding, pointedly: "You have
other work to do, you know."

"Oh, I ain't worryin' about that," responded his man-servant,
reassuringly. "Old Doc. Williams uster say he'd make kindlin' wood o'
me, when I didn't hustle round, but it never fizzed on me." He hung
himself over the window-sill with a sigh of satisfaction, and gazed
admiringly at his employer.

A wire door, leading from the veranda to the main portion of the house,
swung slowly open, and a woman, wearing a big, blue-checked apron, and
carrying a long pewter spoon, looked out anxiously. "Davy!" she called
in a loud whisper, "why don't you get on with your work?"

"I'm helpin' the doctor with his mixtures," he answered, in a tone of
remonstrance.

The woman's tight mouth closed emphatically. "Well, hish!" she said,
raising her spoon warningly. "Susan Winters is sittin' on her porch,
an' she'll hear if you don't look out. It's no use talkin' about
things, anyhow."

The wire door creaked again, Mrs. Munn sailed away, and her son hung
himself farther over the window-sill. Evidently he had inherited none
of his mother's reticence.

"Say," he ventured, confidentially, "Elsie Cameron's home; came
yesterday, the very day you came. Ain't that funny?"

The young doctor did not seem to see anything humorous in the
coincidence. He glanced meaningly toward the lawnmower.

"I bet she thinks it's a kind of a come-down to come back an' work on
the farm after doin' nothin' but sing for so long. She's a bully
singer, I tell you, only s