Billy leaped up to receive her ladyship, who fatly rolled in, her tarnished hat askew, her torn thrice-dingy silks clutched up in one fat hand.
Lady Hickory gave one cry:
"There he is!"
She pushed Billy aside and rolled over into the visitor's chair.
"Oh, Mr. Joe!"
Joe turned.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Everything's up—I'm dying, Mr. Joe—I need help—I must get to the hospital—"
"Sick?"
"Gallopin' consumption!"