“How sad that he should be so implacable in his wrath!”
“He is equally as ‘implacable’ in his gratitude. Would you believe it? He directs that the freedom of the lad who ‘stood by him’ be bought, and a hundred dollars counted into his hand besides. By the way, I forgot to mention that this lad is none other than my man Sam, who passed into the possession of our family, by exchange, years ago. He, you remember, when you and I were sitting in the Argo—a-Maying—”
CHAPTER LXXIX.
On the piazza of a house in Harrisonburg sat two young surgeons. One of them was on duty there; the other had driven in from Taylor’s Springs to procure supplies, and his ambulance-wagon stood in front of the door.
“Well,” said the visitor, rising, “I must hurry back.”
“Any serious cases?”
“Yes; one more than serious. Captain Smith—gallant fellow—pity!”
“Ah, indeed. Poor fellow,—I feared so. He stopped here for an hour or so, then persisted, against my remonstrances, in going out to Taylor’s. Well, good-by. Drop in whenever you are in town.”
“Thank you, I will. Good-day.”
“Doctor! doctor!”