The man removed his overcoat and sat down.

"I am John Gleason," he said; "the brother of James Gleason, who owns the Spring Valley Stock Farm, just out of Adams."

Drusilla thought for a moment.

"I don't seem to recall the name, but perhaps you moved there sence I went away."

"I been there about thirty years. Of course you know William Fisher, the editor of the county paper? He is a friend of mine."

Drusilla's face brightened.

"Yes, indeed; I know him well. I nursed his wife through all her children and her last spell of sickness."

"Is that so! His wife was a cousin of my wife's. Her name was Jenny Jameson before she married me."

"The daughter of old Dr. Jameson! Well, I do declare, it's like meetin' old friends. How is she?"

"I'm sorry to say she is not very well. We lost our little girl about two years ago, and she has been sick ever since."

Kindly Drusilla was all sympathy at once.

"Do tell me. What did she die of."

"Diphtheria. She got it in school; it run through all the children in the county."

"How old was she?"

"She was eleven, and it near broke my wife's heart. She was our only child. I catch her settin' by the door waitin' for Julia to come home. It worries me very much."

"Well, I'm so sorry. Have you had a doctor?"

"Yes; we have had Dr. Friedman and another doctor from the city. But they don't seem to be doing her no good."

"It's too bad! Now perhaps I got something that'll help her. I got some harbs that make the best tonic. I always give it to mothers who didn't get along well, and it made them have an appet.i.te; and if one can eat well, they can ginerally git enough strength to throw off sorrow. You just set still a minute, and I'll make a package for you.

I ain't got much left, 'cause I been kind of savin' of it; but I know it'll do your wife good, so I'm goin' to give you some."

Drusilla left to go up to her room to find the "harbs" that she had been carefully cherishing for time of need. When she returned she handed the package to the man.

"You have her bile them fifteen minutes and drink it like a tea,"

she said.

They chatted for fifteen minutes about the families in Adams. Mr.

Gleason seemed to be very familiar with them all, and Drusilla's eyes brightened as she heard the old names. She thoroughly enjoyed the visit.

"John Brierly is upstairs," she said finally. "I'll call him. He'd like to hear all the news of the old neighbors, and perhaps he'll know about your father."

The man looked embarra.s.sed.

"Well, Miss Doane," he stammered, "I'd like to see him, but I'm in a hurry. I want to get the eleven o'clock train home. I'm worried about leaving my wife. She's not sick, you know, but just peculiar and I don't like to leave her longer than I can help. I had to come down on business--I've been seeing about some cattle over in New Jersey, and-- and--Miss Doane, I'm in trouble, and I don't know a soul in New York, and I didn't know who I could go to but you, and I remembered you was from Adams and might help me."

Drusilla looked at him with inquiring, sympathetic eyes.

"What can I do?" she asked.

"Well,"--and the man was most embarra.s.sed--"I've been farmer enough to have my pocket picked on the train. I was sleepy and went to sleep and when I woke up my pocketbook that I always carried right here"-- showing an inside pocket in his coat--"was gone. It had all my money and my mileage ticket."

"Well, I swan!" said Drusilla.

"Yes; I didn't know _what_ to do. I tried to tell the man in the ticket office that I would send back my ticket money, but he wouldn't give it to me, and I--well--I don't know _what_ to do. I feel I ought to go home to my wife at once, and--and--"

"How much is the ticket?"

"The ticket is only about three dollars and sixty cents--"

"Pshaw, that is very little. I'll get some money from James. I never have any."

She rang the bell; and when James returned with fifteen dollars she handed it to the man.

"You'd better have a little extra, as somethin' might happen," she said.

He was more than thankful.

"I'll never forget your kindness, and I'll send it to you as soon as I get home. You'll get it day after to-morrow. And I'll see my wife takes this tea. We'll never forget you, Miss Doane."

He wrung her hand.

"Can't I get you anything from the country," he asked. "But I suppose you have everything. I'd like to send you something to show you how I feel."

Drusilla was touched.

"Now that's real kind of you to think of it," she said; "but I don't need nothin'."

She followed him to the door and helped him on with his overcoat.

"Be sure and let me know how your wife gets on. Perhaps if the tea don't do no good, my doctor will know of something that'll help her.

She might come down here for a few days; a change might take her mind off her sorrow."

Again Mr. Gleason shook the kindly outstretched hand, and for a moment he seemed rather overcome by his feelings of grat.i.tude.

"I'll let you know at once, and I'll remember your offer. I must catch my train. Thank you again, Miss Doane."

Drusilla watched him walk down the drive, and then she went up to tell John of his visit. As they were talking, Dr. Eaton's card was brought to her and Drusilla asked him to be shown to John's sitting-room.

Drusilla met him with a happy smile on her face.

"Come right in, Dr. Eaton. I'm always glad to see you. You're just youth and strength and it does my old eyes good to see you. John, this is Dr. Eaton, my family doctor. You didn't know I was an ailin'

woman and have to have a doctor by the year."

John looked at her anxiously.