robber, was we to advertise," put in the sheriff, "but on thinkin' it over, we decided the scheme wouldn't work, 'cause of there bein' nothin' in the village worth stealin'." He laughed. Marcia, standing by the stove, spun about. "Now, Elisha, don't you run down Wilton. Why, I have twenty-five dollars in my purse this minute," she asserted, taking a worn pocket-book from her dress and slapping it with challenging candor down upon the table. "I keep it in that china box above the stove." "That might serve as a starter," remarked the stranger, regarding her quizzically. She faced him, chin drawn in, and head high and defiant. "Besides that, in my top bureau drawer is a string of gold beads that belonged to my great-grandmother," she continued, daring laughter curling her lips. "They are very old and are really quite valuable." "We'll make a note of those, too," nodded the man, his eyes on hers. [64] [64] "I'm afraid that's all I can offer in the way of burglary inducements." "That bein' the case, s'pose you an' me start gettin' the patient upstairs, 'Lish," broke in Doctor Stetson. "If we don't, next we know he'll be havin' pneumonia as well as a bad wrist. Besides, I want to get a good look at that wrist. Mebbe 'tain't goin' to be bad as it 'pears." The stranger's admiring glance fixed itself on Marcia's. "What is my next move?" he inquired. "I told you before—you must take off your wet things and rest," she repeated. "You still prescribe that treatment?" "I still prescribe it." "In spite of the—the symptoms?" "Why not?" was her quick answer.
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