"You know well enough that she can't wait to get there."
"Well," she shrugged her shoulder, "dig then."
"But I haven't got it," he pleaded.
"Sell a horse."
He looked to see if she was serious; undoubtedly she was.
"How am I to go on if I sell a horse?"
"That's your lookout."
He stared at her in real curiosity.
"What kind of a doctor are you, anyhow? What kind of a woman?"
"O Daddy—it's hurtin' worse!" moaned the child.