he's got red hair."

He waited for some comment, but as there was none forthcoming, except a
louder clatter of bottles, he continued: "Everybody thinks she's so
awful good-lookin', but I don't think she's half as pretty as
Jean--that's her sister. Say"--his voice sank to a whisper--"did
anybody tell you about her sister yet?"

There was a note of strained anxiety, almost amounting to terror, in
the boy's tone, that commanded Gilbert's attention. He looked around.
Perhaps it was some serious illness, and the new doctor was badly in
need of a patient.

"No. What's the matter with her?" he asked, interestedly.

Davy glanced about him fearfully, as though he were about to disclose
the young woman as the author of a deadly crime. He leaned still
farther into the room. "She's--_she's my girl_!" he exploded, in a
loud whisper.

The new doctor turned his back suddenly. There was a long pause. "I
must congratulate you," he said at last, in a smothered voice.

Davy gazed at his broad back uncertainly. He had heard that formula
before, but it had always been delivered to the newly wed. He was
afraid the doctor was under a pleasant misapprehension.

"We're jist kind o' keepin' company--yet," he explained carefully.
"An' Jean, she's an awful girl to laugh. An' then there's old lady
Cameron--that's her mother. She's a blasted bother. There's never a
fella' goes to see them girls but she has to sit 'round an' do all the
talkin'. It ain't fair." His tone was deeply aggrieved. "You won't
like it any better'n' me if you keep company with Elsie," he added,
after a pause.

The doctor turned, and his expression was so alarming that the youth
slipped back several feet into the garden. "That's what everybody's
been sayin'," he stammered, in self-defense. "All the folks was sayin'
you'd be sure to keep company with Elsie when she came home. I thought
it would be kind o' handy 'count o' me goin' to see Jean. We'd be
company home, nights."

The indignation that had been rising in the young doctor's gray eyes
vanished. He turned quickly to his bottles and indulged in a spasm of
silent laughter. But his face was very grave when he looked around
again. "Look here, David," he said firmly, "I'd advise you not to
discuss my affairs. Neither you nor the rest of the village had better
even speculate upon them. You're almost dead sure to be wrong. Now go
on with your work."

The boy slowly and reluctantly detached hi