“’Tis a dirty night.”
“Ay,” said the other, and, frowning, spread his cards before him. “What do you make, Jagger?”
My father came in—and with him a breath of wet, cool air, which I caught with delight.
“Ha!” he cried, heartily, advancing upon the flabby little man, “we been waitin’ a long time for you, doctor. Thank God, you’ve come, at last!”
“Fifteen, two——” said the doctor.
My father started. “I’m wantin’ you t’ take a look at my poor wife,” he went on, renewing his heartiness with an effort. “She’ve been wonderful sick all winter, an’ we been waitin’——”
“Fifteen, four,” said the doctor; “fifteen, six——”
“Doctor,” my father said, touching the man on the shoulder, while Jagger smiled some faint amusement, “does you hear?”
It was suddenly very quiet in the cabin.
“Fifteen, eight——” said the doctor.