"How did you convince him?"

"I told him the girl would have to have a trained nurse,
and would be sick probably six weeks, and then they
couldn't get the poor girl off their hands quick enough.
'I don't want that girl dyin' round here,' Sam said."

"Is Mrs. Motherwell as close as he is?" the minister
asked after a pause.

"Some say worse," the doctor replied, "but I don't believe
it. She can't be."

The minister's face was troubled. "I wish I knew what to
do for them," he said sadly.

"I'll tell you something you can do for me," the doctor
said sitting up straight, "or at least something you may
try to do."

"What is it?" the minister asked.

"Devise some method, suggest some course of treatment,
whereby my tried and trusty horse Pleurisy will cease to
look so much like a saw-horse. I'm afraid the Humane
Society will get after me."

The minister laughed.

Everybody knew Dr. Clay's horse; there was no danger of