Dr. Bethel thanked him warmly, assuring him that if he had need of a friend he would not forget his very generously proffered service, and, with his solemn face almost funereal in its expression, 'Squire Brookhouse bowed to me, and, this time escorted by Bethel, walked slowly toward the gate.
A carriage came swiftly down the road from the direction of the village. It halted just as they had reached the gate.
I saw a pale face look out, and then 'Squire Brookhouse approached and listened to something said by this pale-faced occupant. Meantime Bethel, without waiting for further words with 'Squire Brookhouse, came back to his seat under the trees.
In a moment the carriage moved on, going rapidly as before, and the 'squire came back through the little gate and approached the doctor, wearing now upon his face a look of unmistakable sourness.
"Doctor," he said, in his sharpest staccato, "my youngest scapegrace has met with an accident, and is going home with a crippled leg. I don't know how bad the injury is, but you had better come at once; he seems in great distress."
The doctor turned to me with a hesitating movement which I readily understood. He was loth to leave our interrupted conversation unfinished for an indefinite time.
I arose at once.
"Don't let my presence interfere with your duties," I said. "You and I can finish our smoke to-morrow, doctor."
He shot me a glance which assured me that he comprehended my meaning.