CHAPTER VI.The Hum of Preparation.
Miss Whitmore ran down to the blacksmith shop, waving an official- looking paper in her hand.
"I've got it, J. G.!"
"Got what--smallpox?" J. G. did not even look up from the iron he was welding.
"No, my license. I'm a really, truly doctor now, and you needn't laugh, either. You said you'd give a dance if I passed, and I did. Happy Jack brought it just now."
"Brought the dance?" The Old Man gave the bellows a pull which sent a shower of sparks toward the really, truly doctor.
"Brought the license," she explained, patiently. "You can see for yourself. They were awfully nice to me--they seemed to think a girl doctor is some kind of joke out here. They didn't make it any easier, though; they acted as if they didn't expect me to pass--but I did!"
The Ol
