"That man on the other side of the street looks like one of the belligerent doctors," said the Professor, as he and Toney stood on the pavement in front of the hotel.

"It is Doctor Bull, minus his spectacles, and with the addition of a very black eye," said Toney.

"His vision seems not to be very clear! There! he has stumbled over a dog, and is indignantly bestowing on the unlucky cur a couple of kicks," said the Professor.

"Bull is very near-sighted," said Toney. "He will get along badly without the aid of his spectacles."

"I wonder how he got out of jail?" said the Professor.

"Colonel Hazlewood bailed him out," said the landlord. "The colonel needs his services in attendance on his niece, Miss Carrington, who is still in a critical condition."

"Did the colonel also bail out the other physician?" asked the Professor.

"No, indeed!" said the landlord. "The colonel said he was afraid to let the other fellow out while the young lady was ill. The two doctors might get to fighting again, and their patient might die while they were settling their difficulties."

"I perceive that the colonel is an apt scholar in the school of experience," said the Professor. "It is not advisable to allow more than one doctor to run at large at a time in a small town like this."

"I am glad that Bull is out," said the landlord.

"Why so?" asked Toney.

"He has a patient in my house. The gentleman is quite sick. He is in the room next to the one occupied by you, Mr. Belton. I hope you have not been disturbed."

"Not at all," said Toney. "He has been very quiet. I was not aware that there was a sick person in the apartment. Come, Charley, let us walk to the post-office."

A letter was handed to Toney at the post-office, which he read, and then exclaimed,—

"Well, Charley, my holiday is over. I must go back to Mapleton by the next train."

"Indeed!" said the Professor. "What urgent business renders your presence necessary in Mapleton?"

"The great case of Simon Rump vs. the Salt-Water Canal Company is to be argued next week. I am counsel for the company, and my distinguished friend M. T. Pate is Rump's attorney. It is a claim for damages. The company are about to construct a portion of their canal through Rump's real estate, and a jury are to assemble on the ground and assess the damages which should be paid to Simon Rump."

"Who is Simon Rump?"

"You have heard Tom Seddon and myself speak of Simon Dobbs?"

"The unfortunate individual who was baffled by the Mystic Order of Sweethearts in his efforts to obtain an angel and seven sweet little cherubs?"

"The same," said Toney. "Well, Simon Dobbs is now Simon Rump."

"Simon Dobbs is now Simon Rump? I don't comprehend."

"It is so. Simon Dobbs is now Simon Rump, and in his domicile dwell an angel and seven sweet little cherubs."

"I am glad that the poor fellow has at last obtained the companionship of angelic beings after so much tribulation. But how did it happen that his name was changed? Had the angel changed her name, when she came to dwell with Dobbs, it would have been more in accordance with established usage."

"The angel would not consent to change her name. I might as well tell the story at once, for I see that your curiosity is aroused."

"Indeed it is," said the Professor. "I am as curious as a maiden lady who has accompanied this terrestrial orb in fifty annual revolutions around the center of the solar system. How did Dobbs become Rump?"

"After the poor fellow met with so serious a mishap, when he wanted to purchase a wife and a couple of children, he lived in melancholy seclusion during several years. He has a fine farm in the neighborhood of Mapleton. On the east side of his farm, and nearer to the town, is the estate of the Widow Wild, and on the west was the land of Farmer Rump who was also named Simon. Rump had fine possessions, and a buxom wife, and seven children, and was prosperous and contented. But he was taken sick, and a doctor being sent for, in about a week Simon Dobbs followed the hearse of his friend and neighbor Simon Rump to the cemetery. The widow wept and the seven children were in deep affliction. Dobbs had a soft heart, and went frequently to the house to console the widow and orphans. The widow was buxom and blooming and the children were chubby. An idea entered the head of Dobbs. Here were an angel and seven sweet little cherubs. Could he not persuade them to come and dwell in his domicile? In the solitude of his home he again had visions of future felicity. In due time he presented the question of annexation for the consideration of the widow. It was decided in the negative. She said that she had been the wife of Simon Rump, and when she planted a rose on the grave of that good man she had solemnly vowed that she would never be the wife of anybody but Simon Rump. Dobbs went home and had a fit of the blues. He thought of his first love and of his subsequent misfortunes. He thought of Susan and the Seven Sweethearts. He thought of the dreadful beating he had received when he wanted to buy a wife and a couple of children. He thought of the refusal of the Widow Rump, and he was in despair. His home would never be the abode of an angel and seven sweet little cherubs."

"Poor fellow!" said the Professor. "His was, indeed, a sad fate! Excuse me, Toney, if I apply my handkerchief. A tear will ooze from the corner of my eye."

"There is no need for your handkerchief. Dobbs's prospects now began to brighten. Fortune smiled on him at last."

"The cruel jade!" said the Professor. "She sometimes becomes ashamed of her barbarity and makes amends. I trust it was so in the case of poor Dobbs."

"It was," said Toney. "A few days after the rejection of his suit by the widow, a splendid opportunity, which presented itself, for an amazing display of his gallantry, enabled him to win her heart. On a bright morning in July there was an unusually large congregation assembled in groups in front of the village church, which stands in a grove of fine old trees, affording a delightful shade. While the people were thus awaiting the arrival of their pastor, the widow rode up, accompanied by her eldest son, a boy of twelve years of age. The lad dismounted and led the widow's steed to a big chestnut stump, then used as a horseblock. She attempted to dismount, but just at that moment the horse suddenly started to one side, and she was caught on the pommel, and there hung suspended, like Mohammed's coffin, between heaven and earth. The gawky boy exclaimed, 'Great golly!' and stood holding the horse. The ladies shrieked and put down their veils, and the gentlemen, instead of going to the rescue, turned away as if seized with a sudden panic. In this emergency the remarkable presence of mind of Simon Dobbs was wonderfully demonstrated. Hearing the cries of the distressed lady, he coolly put his hand in his pocket and drew forth a large knife, which he was accustomed to use in his orchard for pruning purposes; then turning his back and opening the blade, he advanced backward until his shoulders almost touched her as she hung in a state of awful suspense; when with a skillful movement of the knife he cut off the end of the dress which clung to the pommel, and the lady fell unharmed to the ground. A shout of applause rewarded this noble achievement; and from that day the heart of the buxom widow was the property of Simon Dobbs."

"So it should have been," said the Professor. "In books of chivalry and romance a valorous knight, who rescues a fair one in distress, is always rewarded by the possession of that important organ."

"The pastor did not come," said Toney. "The reverend gentleman was sick; but the congregation found an efficient substitute in M. T. Pate, who mounted the pulpit and read the usual prayers, and then selected the ninth chapter of Genesis. When in his loud and solemn tones Pate read the twenty-third verse, every eye in the congregation was directed first towards the widow and then towards Simon Dobbs. The widow went home and read the chapter over and was deeply impressed. She was convinced that Simon Dobbs was a good man, and could be compared to the favorite sons of the patriarch. She knew that he would make a devoted husband. When Dobbs called on the following day to inquire after her health, she blushed until her face was as ruddy as the morning, and Dobbs saw in her blushes the beams of an Aurora which was the harbinger of his happiness."

"Too poetical, Toney," said the Professor. "But proceed. What did Dobbs do?"

"He drew his chair close up to the widow; and this time as he approached her he did not turn his back."

"Well, what did he do?"

"He took hold of her hand."

"Well."

"He squeezed it."

"Good!"

"He advanced his mouth in close proximity to her lips."

"Excellent!"

"He kissed her."

"And then?"

"One of the little cherubs ran into the room, and bawling out, 'You stop biting my mamma!' struck Dobbs with a stick."

"Horrible!"

"Dobbs saw a servant-maid's grinning face at the door. He snatched up his hat and rushed from the house. The widow seized the little cherub, and laid him over her lap and spanked him."

"What became of Dobbs?"

"He returned next evening. The cherubs were all put to bed. He again presented the question of annexation for the consideration of the widow. This time it was debated on both sides. The widow told him that she had solemnly vowed never to be the wife of anybody but Simon Rump. She could not break her vow. Dobbs then proposed to change his name to Rump. This proposition was satisfactory. M. T. Pate filed a bill in chancery for Dobbs, and a decree was passed changing his name to Rump; and Simon Dobbs is now Simon Rump; and an angel dwells with him, and seven sweet little cherubs run about his domicile with their bare feet."

"Cherubs are always barefooted," said the Professor. "They are painted so on canvas. It couldn't be otherwise."

"Why not?" said Toney.

"Because no shoemaker ever entered the kingdom of heaven."

"I cannot see why the disciples of St. Crispin should be excluded," said Toney.

"They never tell the truth, and liars—you know the text. Did you ever see the picture of an angel with a pair of shoes on his feet?"

"Never!"

"They have no shoemakers among them," said the Professor.

They had now reached the hotel, and, after Toney had directed Hannibal and CÆsar to come for his trunks, were approaching his room, when they heard a loud noise, and Tom Seddon's voice furiously shouting "Villain!" This was followed by the sound of some heavy body falling on the floor. Toney and the Professor rushed into the room. In the middle of the floor stood Tom Seddon with his clothes covered with blood. A crimson stream spouted from his person and sprinkled the floor. In a corner of the room lay Dr. Bull, having just been knocked down by a blow from Seddon's fist. On the bed was a basin turned upside down. With the ferocity of a tiger Tom was about to spring at Bull again when Toney caught him and held him back.

"Let me at him!" shouted Tom, savagely. "He has had my blood and I want his!"

"Are you not Jones?" groaned Bull, in the corner.

"Jones! who is Jones? You bloody old villain!" cried Tom.

"Good heavens!" said Bull, "I fear I have made a mistake! I have bled the wrong man!"

Toney roared with laughter, and the Professor fell on the bed and emitted violent explosions of mirth.

Bull, who had been deprived of his spectacles in his desperate encounter with Bear, was nearly blind, and going into the wrong room had approached the bed. Tom was snoring. Bull felt his pulse. "Symptoms of apoplexy!" exclaimed Bull. "A decided change for the worse! He must be immediately depleted or the attack may be fatal!" Bull got a basin, rolled up Tom's sleeve, took out a lancet and sprung it. The blood spirted, and Tom jumped up and knocked Bull down.

All this was explained after Tom's arm had been bound up by the Professor; Bull being too much disabled by the blow and his fall to render any assistance.

"The doctor has amply apologized," said Toney.

"By Jove! does such an outrage admit of an apology?" said Tom, looking at Bull with savage ferocity.

"My dear sir, it was a mistake! I thought it was Jones!" said the doctor, making for the door.

"Good-by, doctor!" said Toney. "You have let the bad blood out of him, and he will soon be in a better disposition."

Bull hastily departed with both eyes in a damaged condition.

"He has had my blood and I would like to have his," said Tom.

"Mr. Seddon, you should cultivate a more benign disposition," said the Professor. "Bull practiced phlebotomy on you with the best intentions."

"And now, Tom, I must leave you," said Toney, as CÆsar and Hannibal entered the room to carry his trunks to the railway.

"Are you going?" said Tom.

"Must go," said Toney. "I have to prepare for the great case of Simon Rump vs. The Salt-Water Canal Company. I leave Charley with you, who will attend to your wound, and when it has healed you and he come to Mapleton and hear the argument of my distinguished adversary M. T. Pate."

Both promised to do so; and shaking hands with his two friends, Toney went out and closed the door, but immediately opened it again and said,—

"Tom, when you take another siesta, remember to bolt the door and keep Bull out. Good-by!"