"Why did you not send me a telegram instead of a letter?"
"A telegram!" he cried. "Do you think I am made of money?"
"I am not thinking of your money: I am thinking of my sister. What does the doctor say?"
"The doctor!" he exclaimed. "I have none."
Gentle-natured as she was, she looked at him in horror.
"You have none—and my sister dying!"
"It is not true," he whined, thinking of the inconvenience such an event would cause him; "it cannot be true. She was well a few days ago. I cannot afford doctors. You are all in a conspiracy to rob me!"
"I was told as I came along that this great house is yours."
"Yes, it is—my property, my own."
"And a great deal of land around, and everything in the place."