“Hello: Who be ye? What ye want?”
“Not so loud,” cautioned Mr. Lane. “They can hear you better if you speak lower.”
But Mr. Savage paid no attention. However he ceased to shout, as the person on the other end of the wire was talking. The farmer listened intently. Then he began to reply:
“Yes, yes,” he said. “I s’pose I kin do it, but it takes my time. Yes, ye can tell her I’ll send it. Guess I’ll have t’ let Dan bring it over. I’ll send him t’night so’s t’ save time.”
Then he hung up the receiver.
“No bad news, I hope?” asked Mrs. Lane politely.
“Yes, ’tis,” replied Mr. Savage. “My sister Lucy, over t’ Pokesville, was took suddenly sick this mornin’. That was her husband telephonin’ t’ me. Lucy wants a bottle of our old family pain-killer. I ain’t got none in th’ house, nuther, an’ I’ve got t’ go t’ th’ village an’ git it. That’s goin’ t’ take a lot of time.”
“Is she very sick?”
“Pretty bad, I guess, th’ way her husband talked,” but Mr. Savage did not seem to regard this so much as he did the loss of his time.
“He didn’t say nothin’ about pay, nuther,” he went on. “I’ve got t’ put out my money fer th’ medicine, an’ goodness knows when I’ll get it back. Then I’ve got t’ let Dan Hardy take th’ medicine over. Land sakes! But sickness is a dreadful nuisance! I don’t see what wimen is allers gittin’ sick fer.”