'You can take the best pair I have,' said Jim.
'I know that. You are not like the bulk of my patients. Cross words is the most I get from some of them,' said the doctor.
Jim Dennis smiled faintly. He knew Dr Tom did not exaggerate.
The buggy swayed from side to side and bumped up and down in a manner suggestive of an early turn over.
It was a rough country and there was only a track, made by the mail coach, which ran past Jim Dennis's place twice a week.
The doctor's buggy, however, was made to bear plenty of wear and tear, and, although it looked anything but elegant, it could stand a lot of knocking about. The last time it had been washed the Swamp Creek folk were so surprised that they turned out en masse to look at the unfamiliar operation. Dr Tom, who said he disliked publicity, had not since repeated the operation. The harness had several suspicions of bits of rope about it, and the horses were accustomed to do most of their own grooming by rolling in the stable yard. Altogether the turnout was not one to inspire confidence, but it was, nevertheless, a welcome sight to many a sufferer round Swamp Creek.
'We'll be there soon, Jim. Cheer up, old man. Don't let the little chap see you with a downcast face. Whom have you left with him?'
'Sal!'
'What! the half-caste?'
'Yes. She's a good sort.'