“Oh, I am glad, that's all.”
“Glad? Well, you show your joy in a mighty queer way.”
“She's done out, Doctor,” cried Moira, springing from her horse and running to her sister-in-law. “I ought to have come before to relieve her,” she continued penitently, with her arms round Mandy, “but I knew so little, and besides I thought the doctor was here.”
“He was here,” said Mandy, recovering herself. “He has just gone, and oh, I am glad. He wanted to cut his foot off.”
“Cut his foot off? Whose foot off? His own?” said Dr. Martin.
“But I am glad! How did you get here in all the world?”
“Your telegram came when I was away,” said the doctor. “I did not get it for a day, then I came at once.”
“My telegram?”
“Yes, your telegram. I have it here—no, I've left it somewhere—but I certainly got a telegram from you.”
“From me? I never sent a telegram.”