"Any fool could have washed the dirt off and stuck court plaster on you," growled the caller, still belligerent. "How do you know my name, and who told you you might get up?"
"The young man who spent the night with me told me you would call this morning, and I got tired lying in bed with nothing the matter with me—"
"Nothing the matter with you! Why, you're burned, and cut, and thumped, and bruised. It's a wonder the Lord let you off alive for being such an idiot. It seems to me you'd have had better sense than to go in a burning stable just to pull out one good-for-nothing horse which don't earn its hay!"
"Circumstances were such that I had no other choice," answered Glenning, a bit distantly.
"Circumstances!" sniffed Doctor Kale. "Yes, I heard about the circumstances, and when you've lived as long as I have, you won't butt your head into a little hell every time a pretty girl winks!"
The blood rushed to John's face, and even Dillard's warning did not serve to check his tongue.
"She didn't wink!" he retorted, rather hotly. "But she asked for help, and I gave it to her, as any man would!"
The caller cast a sidelong glance at the figure by the table, then stumped over to the bed and sat down upon it.
"Tom Dillard told me that you were the new doctor the Herald said was coming here to locate, and that your name was Glenning."
"Yes, John Glenning is my name, and my profession is the same as yours."