"Don't call me, my lady. I hate it."
"I'm glad of that, ma'am," said the doctor solemnly, which made her laugh.
"And now," he pleaded, roughly, though in desperate earnest, "you'll be taking back the money that your father spent to make a doctor of a stable lad, will you not? You'll let me stake you, lass?"
"Oh, you've more than paid that debt. This ranch alone——"
"It's a homestead—a free gift of the Canadian Government. It'll not begin to pay for the cost of a mon's education. A debt's a debt, and I trust you'll allow a mon to wipe out a heavy obligation."
At that Angella smiled, but her eyes were wet.
"If you put it that way, Dr. McDermott, of course, there's nothing else for me to do but let you—let you—stake me—will you?"
"I will!" said the man, scowling at her angrily, then he cleared his throat, and asked for a "bite of food for a hungry mon who's been working day and night to hammer a bit of common sense into a bunch of farmers whose heads are made of wood."
Angella even laughed as she bustled about the kitchen, preparing a quick meal for the doctor, and when she set it before him she asked:
"Who's sick now, doctor?"