I should think it would be harder if one had lots
of things that one must think about, and take care of, and perhaps
worry over. I often am so glad I haven't many things."
They passed on, going down into the little meadow where the sweet
rushes grew, for Melody knew that no child could stay cross when it
had sweet rushes to play with; and Miss Vesta turned to the stranger
with a quick, fierce movement. "Go away!" she cried. "You have your
answer. Not for fifty thousand fortunes should you have the child! Go,
and never come here again!"
* * * * *
It was two or three days after this that Dr. Brown was driving rapidly
home toward the village. He had had a tiresome day, and he meant to
have a cup of Vesta Dale's good tea and a song from Melody to smooth
down his ruffled plumage, and to put him into good-humor again. His
patients had been very trying, especially the last one he had
visited,--an old lady who sent for him from ten miles' distance, and
then told him she had taken seventy-five bottles of Vegetine without
benefit, and wanted to know what she should do next. "I really do not
know, Madam," the doctor replied, "unless you should pound up the
seventy-five bottles with their labels, and take those.
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