“Well, we’ve plenty of doctors, but you’re the only man in the Riding that could smack the Croxley Master off his legs. However, I suppose you know your own business best. When you’re a doctor, you’d best come down into these parts, and you’ll always find a job waiting for you at the Wilson Coal-pits.”
Montgomery had returned by devious ways to the surgery. The horses were smoking at the door, and the doctor was just back from his long journey. Several patients had called in his absence, and he was in the worst of tempers.
“I suppose I should be glad that you have come back at all, Mr. Montgomery!” he snarled. “When next you elect to take a holiday, I trust it will not be at so busy a time.”
“I am sorry, sir, that you should have been inconvenienced.”
“Yes, sir, I have been exceedingly inconvenienced.” Here, for the first time, he looked hard at the assistant. “Good Heavens, Mr. Montgomery, what have you been doing with your left eye?”
It was where Anastasia had lodged her protest. Montgomery laughed.
“It is nothing, sir,” said he.
“And you have a livid mark under your jaw. It is, indeed, terrible that my representative should be going about in so disreputable a condition. How did you receive these injuries?”
“Well, sir, as you know, there was a little glove-fight to-day over at Croxley.”
“And you got mixed up with that brutal crowd?”