"See here, Doctor," he exclaimed, wheeling around in his chair and
interrupting the old man's eloquent discourse. "Here is a letter from
Dr. Miles--says he is sending a nurse; just what we want." He tossed the
letter to the other. "There'll be the deuce to pay at Judge Strong's
when she arrives. Whew! I guess I better trot over home and get a bite
and forty winks. A Jensen breakfast, as you may remember, isn't just the
most staying thing for a civilized stomach, and I need to be fit when I
call at the Strong mansion. Wonder when the nurse will get here."
"She's here now," said the old Doctor, and he then told him about the
meeting at the depot and the fight on the street. "But go on and get your
nap," he finished. "I'll look after her."
Harry had just taken his hat when there came a knock on the door leading
into the little waiting room. He hung his hat back in the closet, and
dropped into his chair again with a comical expression of resignation on
his face. But his voice was cheerful, when he said: "Come in."
The door opened. The young lady of the depot entered. The old physician
took a good look at her this time. He saw a girl of fine, strong form and
good height, with clear skin, showing perfect health, large, gray
eyes--serious enough, but with a laugh back of all their seriousness,
brown hair, firm, rounded chin and a generous sensitive mouth.
Particularly he noticed her hands--beautifully modeled, useful hands
they were, made for real service.
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