“Halloa, old Johnny!”
He was lying on his back on a broad flat sofa, looking just as well as ever in the face. They had given him up the best bedroom and dressing-room because he was ill: nice rooms, both—with the door opening between.
“How did it happen, Bill?”
“Goodness knows! Some fellow rode his horse pretty near over mine—don’t believe he had ever been astride anything but a donkey before. Where’s Tod?”
“Somewhere.—I thought he was close behind me.”
“I’m so glad you two have come. It’s awfully dull, lying here all day.”
“Are you obliged to lie?”
“Carden says so.”
“Do you have Carden?”
“As if our folk would be satisfied without him in a surgical case, and one of danger! He was telegraphed for on the spot, and came over in less than an hour. It happened near the Ombersley station. He comes here every other day, and Featherston between whiles as his locum tenens.”