“Probably she couldn’t help it,” said Mr. Lane, who was indignant at the lack of feeling on the part of Mr. Savage.
“Wa’al, mebby not. But it takes my time an’ money just th’ same. But I’ll make Dan travel by night, so he won’t lose any time.”
“No, it would be too bad if he had a few hours off,” said Mr. Lane in a sarcastic manner, which, however, was lost on Mr. Savage.
“I’m—I’m much obliged fer callin’ me,” said the old farmer as he started away. It seemed as if it hurt him to say those words, so crusty was he.
“Oh, you’re welcome,” replied Mr. Lane coldly.
Mr. Savage found his wife much excited, waiting for him to return and tell her about the message, for she had learned from Dan where her husband had gone.
“Has any one died an’ left ye money?” was her first question.
“No sech luck,” replied Mr. Savage. “I’ve got t’ spend money as ’tis.”
“Can’t ye send the medicine by express, collect?” asked Mrs. Savage when her husband told of his sister’s illness.
“Wish I could, but there ain’t no express that goes that way. No, I’ve got t’ send Dan.”