“You'll have to tell me, Hughie!”
“Ranald!”
“Ranald?”
“Yes, Ranald and his father, Macdonald Dubh, and he's hurted awful bad, and—”
“Hurt, Hughie,” interposed the mother, gently.
“Huh-huh! Ranald said he was hurted.”
“Hurt, you mean, Hughie. Who was hurt? Ranald?”
“No; his father was hurted—hurt—awful bad. He was lying down in the sleigh, and Yankee Jim—”
“Mr. Latham, you mean, Hughie.”
“Huh-huh,” went on Hughie, breathlessly, “and Yankee—Mr. Latham asked if the minister was home, and I said 'No,' and then they went away.”