"
"Have you lived long among the mountains, doctor?" Madge ventured to
ask.
"I should think so. As long as I have lived. Was born and brought up
among 'em."
"It must be dreary here in the winter," Mrs. Muir remarked.
"Not a bit of it. It's never dreary."
"How far among the hills does your practice extend?" Madge pursued.
"As far as I'll go, and I'm usually going."
"Perhaps you can give us, then, some advice as to drives and walks."
"Oh, lots, free gratis. I can tell Mr. Muir of a trout-stream or two,
also."
"Doctor," said Madge, laughing, "I am very ill. I shall need much
advice, and prescriptions of all the romantic walks and drives in the
vicinity."
"And like most of the advice from doctors, it won't be taken. A stroll
on the piaza is about all that most ladies are equal to. You look,
however, as if you should not fear a steep path or a rough road."
"You shall see," cried Madge.
"Yes, I will see," said the doctor, laughing, and bowing himself out.
"I've seen a great many ladies who could dance miles, but were as
afraid of a mountain as of a bear."
At the dinner-table Mrs. Muir said, laughingly, "In Dr. Sommers, Madge
has found a kindred spirit--another oiler of machinery.
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