“It was too bad that you should have suffered by his wickedness, though I didn’t mean that exactly as it sounded.”
“I know that. It is really the result of my own folly. I ought to have made further investigation, and I ought to have been less determined to get in. I lost my temper, and Polly, you know—her voice is not reassuring.”
Agnes laughed. “Dear Polly! her voice does go through one sometimes.”
“So does her shot,” returned Parker, with a wry face.
“She feels very sorry,” said Agnes, “though she says you brought it on yourself.”
“So I did. I acknowledge that.”
“She is a good shot, and it is a mercy you were not killed. Now don’t you think you’d better lie down again?”
It was quite evident that the patient was ready for a change of position, and Agnes, having made him comfortable, went down to Polly full of the information that had just been given her.
Polly listened attentively to what Agnes had to tell her. “I’d like to have Hump Muirhead on the end of this fork,” she said, brandishing her flesh fork in her hand. “I’d roast him over the coals, would I.”
“Oh, Polly, you’re as bad as the Indians.”