Doctor Remy pulled a bell-wire, and Scipio's black head appeared as instantaneously as if he had been attached to the other end of it.
"Saddle the roan, and take him round to the front gate," said Doctor Remy. "Mr. Arling will ride him to Savalla, You will go after him, by the stage, this afternoon. Quick now!"
The head ducked, and disappeared.
"How can I thank you!" exclaimed Bergan, wringing the doctor's hand.
"By attending to the portmanteau business at once. I will come with you; we can talk while you work. I want to ask something about this Doctor Trubie. Does he keep up with the times,—in medicine, that is?"
"I don't know—I believe so."
"H'm; there have been some recent discoveries of great value in the treatment of typhoids, when they run long and low, as they are apt to do. Suppose I write down a few suggestions, which, if there is grave need, you can commend to Doctor Trubie's favorable consideration. Otherwise, don't interfere."
Bergan tried once more to express his gratitude, as the folded paper was put in his hand; but Doctor Remy cut him short.
"If you really want to thank me," said he, "do it by staying away until the sickly season is over; I shall have yellow fever patients enough without you. Indeed, you must; having left, it would be suicidal to come back before the first of November. Tell your mother that I said so, when she is convalescent."
"When she is convalescent," repeated Bergan, quickly. "Then you do hope!"