“That’ll be Mrs. Coombe now,” volunteered his informant.  “Tumble saucy way she has of flinging herself around—­jes’ like a young girl!  Mebby you can see what sort of dress she’s got on.  Alviry’ll be int’rested to know.”

“It’s too far off,” said Callandar, amused.  “All I can see is that the lady is wearing something white.”

“Went out of weeds right on the dot, she did!  It’s not much over a year since the old Doc. died.  Esther’s still wearing some of her black, but jes’ to wear them out, not as symbols.  Mrs. Coombe’s got a whole new outfit, Alviry says.  Turrible extravagant!  Folks says it takes Esther all her time paying for them with her school money.  But I dunno.  What say?”

“I didn’t say anything.  But, since you ask, do you think all this is any of my business?”

“Well, since you ask, it ain’t.  ’Tisn’t my business either; but it kind of passes the time.  Giddap!”

Perhaps the old horse knew he was getting near the end of his journey for, contrary to expectation, he did “giddap” with a jerk which nearly unseated the doctor and caused a flicker of mild surprise to flit across the sad one’s face.

“Turrible fast horse, this,” he confided, “all you got to do is to get him going.”

“Don’t let me take you out of your way.  If you’ll tell me the direction—­”

“Sit still, stranger.  I’m going right past the Imperial.  Hardly any place in Coombe you can go without going past the Imperial.  It’s what you call a kind of newclus.”

As he spoke, the horse, now going at a fairly respectable rate, turned into the main street of the town; a main street, thriftily prosperous but now somewhat a-doze in the sun.  Half-way down, the intelligent animal stopped with another jerk for which the doctor was equally ill-prepared.  Before them stood a modest red brick building, three stories in height, with a narrow veranda running across the lowest story just one step up from the pavement.  On the veranda were green chairs and in the chairs reclined such portion of the male Coombers as could do so without fear and without reproach.  Along the top of the veranda was a large sign displaying the words, “Hotel Imperial.”

Callandar alighted nimbly from the democrat, that being the name of the light spring wagon in which he had travelled, and shook his good Samaritan by the hand.  “Thank you very much,” he said, “and I sincerely hope that the sunstroke will not have terminated fatally by the time you reach home.”

The deep-set eyes turned to him slowly and again he fancied a twinkle in their mournfulness.  “If it does,” said the sad one tranquilly, “it will be the first time it ever has—­giddap!”

As no one came forth to take his knapsack, Callandar slung it over his shoulder and entered the hotel.  The parting remark of his conductor had left a smile upon his lips, which smile still lingered as he asked the sleepy-looking clerk for a room, and intimated that he would like lunch immediately.