st be time to make sure of a capable
substitute.

However, he must be guided by his prognosis on arriving at Costrell's.
It is just possible, too, that the doctor was alive to the interest of
the case on its own account, and not being himself personally involved,
felt a sort of scientific curiosity in the issue--What would the old
lady say or do, in face of such an extraordinary revelation? What were
the feelings of the family of Lazarus when he was raised from the tomb?
Or rather, what would they have been, had he been dead half a century?

The males at the farm would be away at this time of day; that was
satisfactory. He wanted to talk to Granny Marrable alone, if possible.
He could easily get his patient out of the way--that was a trifle. But
it would be a bore to have that young brother hanging round. In that
case he would have to negotiate a private conversation with Juno Lucina,
as such, and to use the opportunity professional mystery would give.

However, events smiled upon his purpose. Only Mrs. Maisie, a perfect
image of roseate health, was there alone with Granny; the two of them
appreciating last year's output, unconscious in his cradle, enjoying the
fourteenth month of his career in this world, having postponed teething
almost beyond precedent. His young mother derided her doctor's advice to
go and lie down and rest, but ultimately gave way to it, backed as it
was by public opinion.

"We seem to be going on very well, Mrs. Marrable," said the doctor, when
this end was achieved. The doctor shared a first person plural with each
of his patients. "_And_ yourself? You're not _looking_ amiss."

"No, thank God! And for all that I be eighty-one this Christmas, if I
live to see the New Year in, I might be twenty-eight." She then very
absurdly referred to the baby, who had waked up and made his presence
felt, as to whether this was, or was not, an exaggeration, suggesting
that he had roused himself to confirm it. Did he, she asked, want to say
his great-Granny was as young as the best, and was he a blessed little
cherub? She accommodated her pronunciation to the powers of
understanding she imputed to him, calling him, _e.g._, a bessed ickle
chezub. He seemed impatient of personalities; but accepted, as a pipe of
peace, an elastic tube that yielded milk. Whereupon Granny Marrable made
no more attempts to father opinions on him. "Indeed, doctor," said she,
speaking English again, "I wish every soul over fifty felt