"With the help of the bon Dieu to fight like hell," he murmured gleefully, as he realized his pugnacious tendencies.
"Good-by for now, dear Jean François," whispered Nance; "but another day ... another day.... O, God!"
The gig drew up and stopped with a jerk. Dr. King climbed out; the old doctor shouted in a voice which tried to be severe, yet was tempered with gladness, and trembled with relieved anxiety:
"Get right in here this minute, Nance Gwyn! Your Aunt Barbara has been intensely worried about you. As for me, you know I didn't care a tinker's damn. Charles, there, is a fool!"
Nance was driven rapidly into Oldmeadow, leaving Charles and Jean François to come leisurely with the caravan.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE DAY OF FAITH
None of the folk of Oldmeadow saw much of me during the years I spent preparing myself to take care of their colics, rheumatism, and occasionally, I assure you, only when it was necessary, to cut off their legs. I also have taken as goodly care of their hearts, their gentle souls, and the love which they have bestowed upon me. You doubtless remember the years at Virginia in which I returned for a few short months each summer and exploited my erudition on the boys who remained at home. Also I strutted in conspicuous glory beside Nance, whom I duly treated with becoming condescension upon the part of one so wholly promising of greatness. Then they almost forgot me, though I felt I was needed betimes to tie tick-tacks upon tempting front doors, during my four years in the medical college. This was the period during which Nance was learning French and violin at some college in Boston.