“Mr. Atkins, I regret to say,” began Brown, “is ill.  He—­”

Stover, standing at his elbow, interrupted nervously.

“Mr. Brown here’ll show us around,” he said quickly.  “Seth said he would.”

“I shall be happy,” concurred that young gentleman.  “You must excuse me if I seem rather worried.  Mr. Atkins, my chief—­I believe you know him, Mrs. Stover—­has been taken suddenly ill, and is, apparently, suffering much pain.  The attack was very sudden, and I—­”

“Sick?” The plump woman seemed actually to prick up her ears, like a sleepy cat at the sound of the dinner bell.  “Is Seth sick?  And you all alone with him here?  Can’t I do anything to help?”

“All he wants is to be left alone,” put in her husband anxiously.  “He said so himself.”

“Do you know what’s the matter?  Have you got any medicine for him?” Mrs. Stover was already climbing out of the buggy.

“No,” replied Brown.  “I haven’t.  That is, I haven’t given him any yet.”

The slim woman, Mrs. Hains of Boston, now broke into the conversation.

“Good thing!” she snapped.  “Most medicine’s nothing but opium and alcohol.  Fill the poor creature full of drugs and—­”

“I s’pose you’d set and preach New Thought at him!” snapped Mrs. Stover.  “As if a body could be cured by hot air!  I believe I’ll go right in and see him.  Don’t you s’pose I could help, Mr. Brown?”

Mr. Brown seemed pleased, but reluctant.  “It’s awfully good of you,” he said.  “I couldn’t think of troubling you when you’ve come so far on a pleasure excursion.  But I am at my wit s end.”

“Don’t say another word!” Mrs. Stover’s bulky figure was already on the way to the door of the house.  “I’m only too glad to do what I can.  And, if I do say it, that shouldn’t, I’m always real handy in a sick room.  ‘Bijah, be quiet; I don’t care if we are on a picnic; no human bein’ shall suffer while I set around and do nothin’.”

Mrs. Hains was at her cousin’s heels.

“You’ll worry him to death,” she declared.  “You’ll tell him how sick he is, and that he’s goin’ to die, and such stuff.  What he needs is cheerful conversation and mental uplift.  It’s too bad!  Well, you sha’n’t have your own way with him, anyhow.  Mr. Brown, where is he?”

“You two goin’ to march right into his bedroom?” screamed the irate Abijah.  The women answered not.  They were already in the kitchen.  Brown hastened after them.

“It’s all right, ladies,” he said.  “Right this way, please.”

He led the way to the chamber of the sick man.  Mr. Atkins turned on his bed of pain, caught a glimpse of the visitors, and sat up.

“What in time?” he roared.

“Seth,” said Brown, benignly, “this is Mrs. Stover of Eastboro.  I think you know her.  And Mrs. Hains of Boston.  These ladies have heard of your sickness, and, having had experience in such cases, have kindly offered to stay with you and help in any way they can.  Mrs. Stover, I will leave him in your hands.  Please call me if I can be of any assistance.”