“I don’t know, unless—” Nancy hesitated; then she added directly, “My father is a doctor.”
He nodded.
“And speaks English?” he queried.
Nancy bravely suppressed her laughter.
“New York English,” she replied gravely.
And Barth answered with perfect good faith,—
“That will do. They are not so very different, and we can understand each other quite well, I dare say. Where is he?”
The girl pointed towards the crest of the bluff.
“He is at the Gagnier farm.”
“May I trouble you to send some one for him?” Barth asked courteously.