“Oh, good Lord!” groaned Granny. “You make me sick enough to kill. Touch up your nag and hustle me to Doc. You can't get me there quick enough to suit me.”
At the hospital she faced Doctor Carey. “I think likely some of my innards has got to be cut out and mended,” she said. “I'll jest take a few minutes of your time to examination me, and see what you can do.”
In the private office she held the letters toward the doctor. “They hain't no manner of sickness ailin' me, Doc. The boy out there is in deep water, and I knowed how much you thought of him, and I hoped you'd give me a lift. I went over to his place this mornin' to take him a pie, and I found his settin' room fireplace heapin' with letters he'd writ to Ruth about things his heart was jest so bustin' full of it eased him to write them down, and then he hadn't the horse sense and trust in her jedgment to send them on to her. I picked two fats, a lean, and a middlin' for samples, and I thought I'd send them some way, and I struck for home with them an' he ketched me plumb on the bridge. I had to throw my pie overboard, willer plate and all, and as God is my witness, I was so flustered the boy had good reason to think I was sick a-plenty; and soon as he noticed it, I thought of you spang off, and I knowed you'd know her whereabouts, and I made him fetch me to you. On the way I jest dragged it from him that he'd sent her away his fool self, because she didn't sense what he meant by love, and she wa'ant beholden to him same degree and manner he was to her. Great day, Doc! Did you ever hear a piece of foolishness to come up with that? I told him to ast you! I told him you'd tell him that no clean, sweet-minded girl ever had known nor ever would know what love means to a man 'til he marries her and teaches her. Ain't it so, Doc?”
“It certainly is.”
“Then will you grind it into him, clean to the marrer, and will you send these letters on to Ruthie?”
“Most certainly I will,” said the doctor emphatically. Granny opened the door and walked out.
“I'm so relieved, David,” she said. “He thinks they won't be no manner o' need to knife me. Likely he can fix up a few pills and send them out by mail so's that I'll be as good as new again. Now we must get right out of here and not take valuable time. What do I owe you, Doc?”
“Not a cent,” said Doctor Carey. “Thank you very much for coming to me. You'll soon be all right again.”
“I was some worried. Much obliged I am sure. Come on!”
“One minute,” said the doctor. “David, I am making up a list of friends to whom I am going to send programmes of the medical meeting, and I thought your wife might like to see you among the speakers, and your subject. What is her address?”