“Why—­so I am!” he exclaimed.

“You say that as if you had just found it out.”

“Well, er—­you see I had forgotten it—­temporarily.  My head, you know.”

The suspicion in the girl’s eyes melted into sympathy.  “I suppose you know,” she said with quite a motherly air, “that old Doc.  Simmonds hasn’t really any practice to sell?”

“No?  That’s bad.  Hasn’t he even a little one?  You see” (the sympathy had been so pleasant that he felt he could do with a little more of it), “I could hardly manage a big one just now.  As you may have noticed, my health is rather rocky.  Got to lay up and all that—­so it’s just as well that old Simpkins’ practice is on the ragged edge.”

“The name is Simmonds, not Simpkins,” coldly.

“Well, I didn’t buy the name with the practice.  My own name is Callandar.  Much nicer, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know.  A well-known name is rather a handicap.”

This time the doctor was genuinely surprised.

“A handicap?  What do you mean?”

“People will be sure to compare you with your famous namesake, Dr. Callandar, of Montreal.  Everyone you meet,” with a mischievous smile, “will say, ’Callandar—­ah! no relation to Dr. Henry Callandar of Montreal, I suppose?’ And then they will look sympathetic and you will want to slap them.”

“Dear me!  I never thought of that!  I had no idea that the Montreal man would be known up here.  In the cities, perhaps, but not here.”

The girl raised her straight black brows in a way which expressed displeasure at his slighting tone.

“You are mistaken,” she said briefly.  “I must go now.  It is time to ring the bell.  The children are running wild.”

For the first time the doctor began to take an intelligent interest in his surroundings, and saw that the tree, the white stoop and the small white building were situated in a little, quiet oasis separated by a low fence from the desert of a large yard containing the red pump.  On the other side of the fence was pandemonium!

“Why, it’s a school!” he exclaimed.

The school-mistress arose, daintily flicking the crumbs from her white pique skirt.

“District No. 15.  The largest attendance of any in the county.  I really must ring the bell.”  She flicked another invisible crumb.  “I hope,” she added slowly, “that I haven’t discouraged you.”

“Oh, no! not at all.  Quite the contrary.  It seems unfortunate about the name, but perhaps I can live it down.  It isn’t as if I were just out of college, you know.—­In fact,” as if the thought had just come to him, “do I not seem to you to be a little old for—­to be making a fresh start?”

The girl’s eyes looked at him very kindly.  It was quite evident that she thought she understood the situation perfectly.  “I shouldn’t worry about that, if I were you,” she said.  “Young doctors are often no use at all.  A great many people prefer doctors to be older!  I know, you see, for my father was a doctor.  He was Dr. Coombe; for many years he was the only doctor here, the only doctor that counted,” with a pretty air of pride.  “The town was named after his father-I am Esther Coombe.”