Footsteps in the kitchen caused him to hurriedly reenter that apartment.

Mrs.Stover was standing by the range, her face red.
"Oh, there you are, Mr.Brown!" she exclaimed.

"I wondered where you'd gone to." "How is he ?" inquired Brown, the keenest anxiety in his utterance.
"H'm! he'd do well enough if he had the right treatment.

I cal'late he's better now, even as 'tis; but, when a person has to lay and hear over and over again that what ails 'em is nothin' but imagination, it ain't to be wondered at that they get mad.

What he needs is some sort of soothin' medicine, and I only wish 'twan't so fur over to home.