“It is an outrageous figure,” some one was storming. Then the doctor’s quiet tone, evidently not arguing, merely stating something. But I had not time to listen to some person probably disputing his bill, so I coughed. The voices ceased at once: a door closed somewhere, and the doctor entered from the hall of the house. He looked sufficiently surprised at seeing me.
“Good afternoon, Doctor,” I said formally. “I shall not keep you from your patient. I wish merely to ask you a question.”
“Won’t you sit down?”
“It will not be necessary. Doctor, has any one come to you, either early this morning or to-day, to have you treat a bullet wound?”
“Nothing so startling has happened to me,” he said. “A bullet wound! Things must be lively at Sunnyside.”
“I didn’t say it was at Sunnyside. But as it happens, it was. If any such case comes to you, will it be too much trouble for you to let me know?”
“I shall be only too happy,” he said. “I understand you have had a fire up there, too. A fire and shooting in one night is rather lively for a quiet place like that.”
“It is as quiet as a boiler-shop,” I replied, as I turned to go.
“And you are still going to stay?”
“Until I am burned out,” I responded. And then on my way down the steps, I turned around suddenly.