Judge Colver waved his hand and turned to go.
"Uncle Billy'll show you where they live, doctor. I wish you'd bring me your report as soon as you get back. We haven't had small-pox in the county for thirty years," he added, as his big figure moved ponderously out the door.
Mr. Hoonover had carried his point, but that fact in no wise stilled his tongue. He must talk. An argument was always better suited to his temperament, which was naturally belligerent, but when controversy was impossible he rambled on anyhow. While Glenning was making his brief preparations Uncle Billy's tongue was going.
"I hope you'll run ol' Kale till he takes in his sign!" he piped. "A doctor oughter be for ever'body, but ol' Kale's for the quality stric'ly. I do b'lieve he'd be glad if I was took with the small-pox, so't he could git a dig at me."
"Oh, then he is your family physician, too?"
"Yes, yes; I'm a fool like the balance of 'em. But it don't pay to git stuck on any one doctor, for they'll either neglect you or bulldooze you when you do. If you c'n cure the Scribbenses, durned if I don't switch off 'n' have you for a spell!"
Glenning smiled as he picked up his medicine case and reached for his hat.
"We don't cure small-pox as easily as we do some things," he said. "I understand these people live some distance from town?"
"Yes, on the Hillville pike--that is, you go that pike for a couple o' mile, 'n' then strike out a side road passin' my place."
"Yes, my buggy's ready--" Uncle Billy stopped at the foot of the stair they had been descending, and squinted suspiciously up at John, one step above him. "But how'r' you goin' to git back? I can't tech you nor be a-nigh you after yo've handled the small-pox!"
"I'll have my horse and buggy here in a day or two--from Jericho," mused Glenning. "I tell you. I'll get a vehicle from the nearest stable. Where is it--your nearest livery stable?"
They came out on the pavement, side by side.
"Yonder." Uncle Billy pointed with his pilgrim's staff. "Half way down the square where them men are settin' tilted back talkin' hard times--that's what they're doin' if I can't hear 'em. I know ever' blessed one of 'em from here. See the place? Got a big red hoss painted over the door. Ask for Steve Duncan or Lige Lane--they run it, 'n' are good men. Say I sent you. Yonder's my nag, hitched to that lamp post."