was so sweet--so rich--so
full....

CHAPTER III

THE HOUSE OF CLAY

When the operation was over, the two doctors drove back to Millford,
the younger man so deeply engrossed in his own thoughts he hardly
heard the older doctor's incessant conversation. But that did not in
any wise discourage Dr. Brander, for to him, talking was much like
breathing, it went on easily, unconsciously, and without the necessity
of a listener.

On Dr. Clay there had fallen the pleasant, drowsy feeling of one
whose work is done for the day, and a hard day it had been, with its
uncertainty of the delayed train, and his patient's condition. But all
had gone well, and his patient's reaction had been satisfactory. More
than that, the older doctor had concurred in all that he had done, and
commended his treatment of the case from the beginning.

So, comfortably seated in the cutter, with a brown bear robe over
their knees, and the mate of it over the seat, the two doctors drove
home in the purple-blue twilight, seated side by side, but with minds
far removed from each other.

The doctor's horses knew every road that led home, and trotted on
without any guidance or word from him--they were a fine team of glossy
chestnuts of whom the young doctor was extremely proud. But tonight, a
strange lassitude of spirit was upon him and he only wanted to relax
his weary brain and dream away the snowy miles to the rhythmic beat of
the horses' hoofs.

He had never been more contented in his life. His work was going
well--that day the Liberals had offered him the nomination for the
coming provincial election! It was an honor which he appreciated,
though he had no desire to enter politics. He loved his work--the
people he served were devoted to him--he could read it in their faces
and their stammering words. He knew what they wanted to say,
even though it was conveyed in a few halting fragments of
sentences--"You're all right--Doc--sure--glad you got here--we knew
you'd make it--somehow--you and them high steppers of yours can get
through the snow--if any one can."

Slowly, for a great weariness was on him, he began to think of Pearl,
the red-cheeked shining-eyed Pearl, who had singled him out for her
favor ever since he came to the village six years ago; Pearl, with her
contagious optimism and quaint ways, who had the good gift of putting
every one in good humor. He smiled to himself when he thought of
how often he had made it convenient to pa