Montpelier examiner. [volume] (Montpelier, Idaho) 1895-1937, 1918-01-11

ana anaemic and everything you
ought not to be, and I'm not going to
stand by and let you die"
IF do. It's my own affair"
"Not while I'm your DOCTOR"
"I'll die anyway. If l had to take
those awful doses I'd be dead In two
days. So I'm going to die comfort
ably"
mo, you're not going to die at all.
As long as I'm your doctor youll have
to do as say"
"And what IL don'tF"
He spread his hands and shrugged
slightly.
"You wash your hands Of me. sup.
pose" she had replied.
what else can dot"
"Well, there are other doctors In
town, Tom Wardwell. You don't have
to waste your time on me. Good morn
ing"
Nov, Er1ninie, / didn't say that"
But she would not reply nor look at
him again, so he picked up his hat and
left.
Erminie began to pick up suspicious
~ after that. She put ON pounds Of
flesh. her eyes frightened, the bloom
came back to her cheeks, and her lips
no longer looked like parchment. But
what she kept locked in her closet no
one could have told but the local
apothecary, and why she suddenly be-
came such good customer of the
Farm and Dairy Produce company no
one knew save Sarah, the maid.
But when she had tonsilitIs she sent
for old Doctor Bradner. That was the
only time she had been really Ill In
the two years since the trouble. But
that was enough.
Doctor Wardwell lifted his hat
when brought face to face with his
combatIve neighbor, and Miss Ermiaie
bowed stiffiy. But never a word passed
between them.
She was away ali Of the second
summer and returned In September.
The days were hot and oppressive and
she sat out on the porch great deal
Of the time, knitting on gray or khaki
colored yarns, meant for the snappy
months ahead when the boys across
the water would need them. She had
about completed her second set-a
sleeveless sweater, q knitted helmet,
a scarf and pair of wristlets.
The afternoon paper was flung up
on the porch, landing at her feet. She
stopped eagerly and picked It up,
anxiously scanning the names Of those
to 90. And then In q section by itself
she read: Noted Local Physician
Commissioned. To Leave for France
In Four Weeks. DIR. Thomas Wardwell
Called to the COlOrs." There wasn't
much more, merely a confirmation Of
the heading.
The paper fell at her feet unheeded.
Her eyes stared before her into space (;
her knitting slipped of her knee. She
knew now-she'd known all along
that she was mean and contemplate
and had childishly given way to petty
spite, hoping all the time that he
would make the overture for peace.
She realized, too, that what she had
done had hurt him beyond repair, and
yet she had expected him TO be the
one to bridge the gulf.
Just then a paper blew over out Of
the doctors yard-a brown wrapping
paper which had come on 3 postal
package. 1t bore his name, address
and cancelled stamps aHit lay spread
below her. Then Miss Erminie sud
denly had an inspiration. The last
wooden set was just finished and she
determined that Doctor Wardwell
should wear the things without an
idea Of the donor.
She few indoors with the paper,
deftly wrapped the pieces and tied
them securely. with the name and ad-
dress in full view. Then she ran over
I and laid 1t IN the doctors vestibuIe.
He'd think the postman had brought
IT. when he returned from his calls.
But not 30. Just as she turned. the
door opened and a strong arm drew
her into the hall
aErminiel" The doctors voice
shook. "What are you doingT
"I-why just brought a little peace
offering. And ] want you to know I'm
sorry for everything" The tears we're
coming.
Look here. dear girl, we've botl
been foolish, but that's over now
We've wasted good years. and fv'
loved you all the time. I'm soini
away, dear. and I'm coming back, O
course But I'd be happier Il though
you were waiting for me. Tell me. d
you think you could love me. ia
miner
Z always have" shs sobbsd softi'