“Take whatever is left, and keep it for a souvenir,” I said. “And if you like to have the carcase framed, I’ll pay for it.”
“You look better already,” she replied.
Thus the great man scattered cheeriness in various directions; and Sarah Ann, a year later, pridefully showed me the chicken’s wings a-top her best Sunday bonnet.
In just as much time as it took my London doctor to come west to assume charge of me, they got me under way.
“But how am I ever going to reach the main road!” I wailed.
“Perfectly easy,” said Ursula. “You are going to be carried, and every masculine in the place is willing to lend a hand.”
And so they did. One young man made himself entirely responsible for my luggage, going off with it by train, that there should be no chance of any delay. A stalwart fisherman and a sturdy young farmer carried me, in a chair, straight up hill for half a mile to where a motor was waiting on the county road.
Everybody was so gentle and quiet, and yet very businesslike. They stood silently, with their hats off, while I was put into the car. I looked round on the hills, convinced that I was looking at them for the last time, and felt exactly as though I were present at my own funeral!