Part 21 (1/2)
”Tell him, Billy, I want him to see my husband then.”
”Sure thing! That'll catch him, I guess. He's dead stuck on his work.”
And it did catch him, for, after breakfast was over, clean-shaven, calm and controlled, and in his very best professional style, Dr. Martin made his morning call on his patient. Rigidly he eliminated from his manner anything beyond a severe professional interest. Mandy, who for two years had served with him as nurse, and who thought she knew his every mood, was much perplexed. Do what she could, she was unable to break through the barrier of his professional reserve. He was kindly courteous and perfectly correct.
”I would suggest a quiet day for him, Mrs. Cameron,” was his verdict after examining the patient. ”He will be quite able to get up in the afternoon and go about, but not to set off on a hundred and fifty mile drive. A quiet day, sleep, cheerful company, such as you can furnish here, will fix him up.”
”Doctor, we will secure the quiet day if you will furnish the cheerful company,” said Mandy, beaming on him.
”I have a very busy day before me, and as for cheerful company, with you two ladies he will have all the company that is good for him.”
”CHEERFUL company, you said, Doctor. If you desert us how can we be cheerful?”
”Exactly for that reason,” replied the doctor.
”Say, Martin,” interposed Cameron, ”take them out for a drive this afternoon and leave me in peace.”
”A drive!” cried Mandy, ”with one hundred and fifty miles behind me and another hundred and fifty miles before me!”
”A ride then,” said Cameron. ”Moira, you used to be fond of riding.”
”And am still,” cried the girl, with sparkling eyes.
”A ride!” cried Mandy. ”Great! This is the country for riding. But have you a habit?”
”My habit is in one of my boxes,” replied Moira.
”I can get a habit,” said the doctor, ”and two of them.”
”That's settled, then,” cried Mandy. ”I am not very keen. We shall do some shopping, Allan, you and I this afternoon and you two can go off to the hills. The hills! th--ink of that, Moira, for a highlander!” She glanced at Moira's face and read refusal there. ”But I insist you must go. A whole week in an awful stuffy train. This is the very thing for you.”
”Yes, the very thing, Moira,” cried her brother. ”We will have a long talk this morning then in the afternoon we will do some business here, Mandy and I, and you can go up the Bow.”
”The Bow?”
”The Bow River. A glorious ride. Nothing like it even in Scotland, and that's saying a good deal,” said her brother with emphasis.
This arrangement appeared to give complete satisfaction to all parties except those most immediately interested, but there seemed to be no very sufficient reason with either to decline, hence they agreed.
CHAPTER IX
THE RIDE UP THE BOW
Having once agreed to the proposal of a ride up the Bow, the doctor lost no time in making the necessary preparations. Half an hour later he found himself in the stable consulting with Billy. His mood was gloomy and his language reflected his mood. Gladly would he have escaped what to him, he felt, would be a trying and prolonged ordeal. But he could not do this without exciting the surprise of his friends and possibly wounding the sensitive girl whom he would gladly give his life to serve.
He resolved that at all costs he would go through with the thing.
”I'll give her a good time, by Jingo! if I bust something,” he muttered as he walked up and down the stable picking out his mounts. ”But for a compound, double-opposed, self-adjusting jacka.s.s, I'm your choice. Lost my first chance. Threw it clean away and queered myself with her first shot. I say, Billy,” he called, ”come here.”