THE WRONG SHAPE
towards the front door. To their surprise, however, he had not been alone. They found themselves abruptly pulled up and forced to banish their bewilderment by the appearance of Mrs. Quinton, with her heavy golden hair and square pale face, advancing on them out of the twilight. She looked a little stern, but was entirely courteous.
"Good evening, Dr. Harris," was all she said.
"Good evening, Mrs. Quinton," said the little doctor heartily. "I am just going to give your husband his sleeping draught."
"Yes," she said in a clear voice. "I think it is quite time." And she smiled at them, and went sweeping into the house.
"That woman's over-driven," said Father Brown; "that's the kind of woman that does her duty for twenty years, and then does something dreadful."
The little doctor looked at him for the first time with an eye of interest. "Did you ever study medicine?" he asked.
"You have to know something of the mind as well as the body," answered the priest; "we have to know something of the body as well as the mind."
"Well," said the doctor, "I think I'll go and give Quinton his stuff."
They had turned the corner of the front façade, and were approaching the front doorway. As they
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