“Pooh! Leanin’ over the coal box? Fell on the corner? Nonsense! Say, if you’d fell clear off o’ the roof on to that dogone box, mebbe you could ha’ done that amount o’ damage. But–––”
Eve’s eyes flashed indignantly.
“I’d be glad if you’d fix me up,” she said coldly.
The rough doctor grinned and got to work. She had made him suddenly realize that he was dealing with a 170 woman, and not one of the men of the village. He promptly waived what had, in the course of years, become a sort of prerogative of his: the right to bully. In half an hour he had finished and the three prepared to take their departure.
“Guess you’ll be all right now,” Crombie said, in his gruff but not unkindly way. Then, unable to check entirely his hectoring, he went on with a sarcastic grin. “An’, say, ma’m, if you’ve a habit o’ leanin’ so heavy over the coal box, I’d advise you to git the corners rounded some. When falls sech as you’ve jest bin takin’ happen around they don’t generly end with the first of ’em. I wish you good-night.”
Peter also bade her good-night, and he and the doctor passed out. Jim was about to follow when Eve stayed him. She waited to speak till the others had passed out of ear-shot.
“Jim, you’re real good,” she said in a low voice. “And I can never thank you enough. No,” as he made an attempt to stop her, “I must speak. I didn’t want to, but––but I must. It isn’t money we want––truth. Not yet. But maybe you can help me. I don’t rightly know. You do want to, don’t you? Sure––sure?”
Jim nodded. His eyes told her. At that moment he would have done anything for her.
“Well, if you want to help me there’s only one way. Help him. Oh, Jim, he needs it. I don’t know how it’s to be done, but––for my sake––help him. Jim, it’s drink––drink and poker. They’re ruining him. You can only help me––by helping him. No, don’t promise anything. Good-night, Jim. God bless you!”