"'Twas my narrowest escape—and 'twas all because of Billy Topsail."
"Along o' me!" cried Billy.
"Ay," said the doctor; "'twas all along o' you. Some years ago," he continued, "when you were a toddler in pinafores, you were taken suddenly ill. It was a warm day in the spring of the year. The ice was still in the harbour, locked in by the rocks at the narrows, though the snow had all melted from the hills, and green things were shooting from the earth in the gardens. The weather had been fine for a week," the doctor continued, addressing the stranger, "Day by day the harbour ice had grown more unsafe, until, when Billy was taken ill, only the daring ventured to cross upon it.
"MY LITTLE LAD'S WONDERFUL SICK. COME QUICK!"
"Billy's father came rushing into the surgery in a pitiable state of grief and fright. I knew when I first caught sight of his face that Billy was ill.
"'Doctor,' said he, 'my little lad's wonderful sick. Come quick!'
"'Can we cross by the ice?' I asked.
"'I've come by that way,' said he. ''Tis safe enough t' risk. Make haste, doctor, sir! Make haste!'
"'Lead the way!' said I.