“No, we were just talking about you, doc.”
“Fire ahead, young woman,” said the doctor, with assumed severity. “I'm here to defend myself now.”
“Alec was calling you an angel, and I was laughing at him,” said the girl demurely.
“An angel—huh!” he snorted.
“I never knew an angel that chewed tobacco, or one that could swear the way you do when you're mad,” continued Arlie.
“I don't reckon your acquaintance with angels is much greater than mine, Miss Arlie Dillon. How's the patient?”
“He's always wanting something to eat, and he's cross as a bear.”
“Good for him! Give him two weeks now and he'll be ready to whip his weight in wild cats.”
The doctor disappeared within, and presently they could hear his loud, cheerful voice pretending to berate the patient.
Arlie sat down on the top step of the porch.