" He gave some further instructions.
Mayme produced a dollar, and delicately placed it on the mantel.
"Take it away," said the Little Red Doctor. "Didn't I tell you--"
"Go-wan!" said Mayme. "Whadda you think you are; Bellevue Hospital? I
pay as I go, Doc."
The Little Red Doctor frowned austerely.
"What's the matter? Face hurt you?" asked the solicitous Mayme.
"People don't call me 'Doc,'" began the offended practitioner in
dignified tones.
"Oh, that's because they ain't on to you," she assured him. "I wouldn't
call you 'Doc' myself if I didn't know you was a good sport back of
your bluff."
The Little Red Doctor grinned, looking first at Mayme and then at the
dollar. "You aren't such a bad sport yourself," he admitted. "Well,
we'll call this a deal. But if I see you in the Square and give you a
tip about yourself now and again, that doesn't count. That's on the
side. Understand?"
She considered it gravely. "All right," she agreed at length. "Between
pals, yes? Shake, Doc."
So began the quaint friendship between our hard-worked, bluff,
knightly-hearted practitioner, and the impish and lovable little
store-girl. Also another of the innumerable tilts between him and his
old friend, Death.
"He's got the jump on me, Dominie," complained the Little Red Doctor to
me. "But, at that, we're going to give him a fight.
Pages:
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131