“Yes, my boy; a long while.”
“I was very stupid just now when Macey was here. It seemed to me that it was only last night that I was in the wood getting truffles, when those two gipsy lads attacked me, but, of course, I’ve been very ill since.”
“Yes, my boy, very.”
“The young scoundrels! There was the basket and trowel, I remember.”
“Yes, my boy, they brought them home.”
“That’s right. It was your little bright trowel, and—oh, of course I remember that now. I was taking the bottle of liniment, and one of the lad’s sticks struck me on the breast, where I had the bottle in my pocket, and shivered it.”
“Struck you with his stick?”
“Yes. I made as hard a fight of it as I could, but they were too much for me.”
“Don’t think about it any more now, but try and have a nap,” said the doctor quietly. “I want to go down.”
Vane sighed.