abeth Brower was up early in
the morning and called Uncle Eb, who went away for the doctor as soon
as light came. We ate our breakfast in silence. Father and mother and
Grandma Bisnette spoke only in low tones and somehow the anxiety in
their faces went to my heart. Uncle Eb returned about eight o'clock and
said the doctor was coming. Old Doctor Bigsby was a very great man in
that country. Other physicians called him far and wide for consultation.
I had always regarded him with a kind of awe intensified by the aroma of
his drugs and the gleam of his lancet. Once I had been his patient and
then I had trembled at his approach. When he took my little wrist in
his big hand, I remember with what reluctance I stuck out my quivering
tongue, black, as I feared with evidences of prevarication.

He was a picture for a painter man as he came that morning erect in his
gig. Who could forget the hoary majesty of his head--his 'stovepipe'
tilted back, his white locks flying about his ears? He had a long
nose, a smooth-shaven face and a left eye that was a trifle turned. His
thoughts were generally one day behind the calendar. Today he seemed to
be digesting the affairs of yesterday. He was, therefore, absentminded,
to a degree that made no end of gossip. If he came out one day with
shoe-strings flying, in his remorse the next he would forget his collar;
if one told him a good joke today, he might not seem to hear it, but
tomorrow he would take it up in its turn and shake with laughter.

I remember how, that morning after noting the symptoms of his patient,
he sat a little in silent reflection. He knew that colour in the cheek,
that look in the eye--he had seen so much of it. His legs were crossed
and one elbow thrown carelessly over the back of his chair. We all sat
looking at him anxiously. In a moment he began chewing hard on his
quid of tobacco. Uncle Eb pushed the cuspidor a bit nearer. The doctor
expectorated freely and resumed his attitude of reflection. The clock
ticked loudly, the patient sighed, our anxiety increased. Uncle Eb spoke
to father, in a low tone, whereupon the doctor turned suddenly, with
a little grunt of enquiry, and seeing he was not addressed, sank again
into thoughtful repose. I had begun to fear the worst when suddenly the
hand of the doctor swept the bald peak of benevolence at the top of
his head. Then a smile began to spread over his face. It was as if some
feather of thought had begun to tickle him. In a