Klári happened to be on the verandah, watering her musk-geraniums, when the gig drove up.
"What brings you, Pesta," she asked, "in such a fearful hurry?"
"A letter for the master."
"Well, it will be difficult to get a word out of him, because he is just putting a new swarm into the hive."
"But it is an order from the vet," said Pesta, "to send the carriage to town immediately for the best doctor."
"The doctor? Is someone ill? Who has the ague now?"
"None of us, for the doctor picked him up on the meadow. It is Sándor Decsi, the csikós."
The girl gave a cry, and the watering-can fell from her hands. "Sándor? Sándor is ill?"
"So ill that he is trying to climb up the wall, and bite the bed-clothes in his agony. Somebody has poisoned him."
The girl had to clutch the door with both hands to prevent herself falling.