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"And what if I won't do it?" said I. "What does it matter to me if the rascal swings or no?" "Keep cool, doc," returned Stagers. "I'm only agent in this here business. My principal, that's File, he says: 'Tell Sanderaft to find some way to get me clear. Once out, I give him ten thousand dollars.

I was dull and confused, and yet on my guard, for when far into the night I heard noises below, I ran up the steeper steps which ascend to the steeple, where are the bells. Half-way up I sat down on the stair. The place was cold and the darkness deep. Then I heard the eight ringers down below. One said: "Never knowed a Christmas like this since Zeb Sanderaft died. Come, boys!"

Into this new home I moved my medical text-books, a few bones, and myself. Also, I displayed in the window a fresh sign, upon which was distinctly to be read: DR. E. SANDERAFT. Office hours, 8 to 9 A.M., 7 to 9 P.M.

One night, as I was debating with myself as to how I was to improve my position, I heard a knock on my shutter, and, going to the door, let in a broad-shouldered man with a whisky face and a great hooked nose. He wore a heavy black beard and mustache, and looked like the wolf in the pictures of Red Riding-hood which I had seen as a child. "Your name's Sanderaft?" said the man.

As for my father, he was rather common. He was a little man, red and round like an apple, but very strong, for a reason I shall come to presently. The family must have had a pious liking for Bible names, because he was called Zebulon, my sister Peninnah, and I Ezra, which is not a name for a gentleman. At one time I thought of changing it, but I got over it by signing myself "E. Sanderaft."

"Yes; that's my name Dr. Sanderaft." As he sat down he shook the snow over everything, and said coolly: "Set down, doc; I want to talk with you." "What can I do for you?" said I. The man looked around the room rather scornfully, at the same time throwing back his coat and displaying a red neckerchief and a huge garnet pin. "Guess you're not overly rich," he said.

My aunt, Rachel Sanderaft, who kept house for us, was a queer character. She had a snug little property, about seven thousand dollars. An old aunt left her the money because she was stone-deaf. As this defect came upon her after she grew up, she still kept her voice. This woman was the cause of some of my ill luck in life, and I hope she is uncomfortable, wherever she is.