"Doc," he said solemnly, "she's workin' like a watch, full jewel, patent lever.""All right.Now get on to this.Sitting-room aired, good fire going, windows open and a cup of coffee.""Coffee? Say, Doc, there ain't time.What about tea?""You know well enough, Billy, you haven't got any but that infernal green stuff fit to tan the stomach of a brass monkey.""There's another can, Doc.I know where it is.Leave it to me.""All right, Billy, I trust you.They are death on tea in the Old Country.And toast, Billy.What about toast?""Toast? Toast, eh? Well, all right, Doc.Toast it is.Trust yours truly.You keep her out a-viewin' the scenery for half an hour.""And Billy, a big pitcher of hot water.They can't live without hot water in the morning, those Old Country people.""Sure thing, Doc.A tub if you like."
"No, a pitcher will do."
At this point a long drawn whistle sounded through the still morning air.
"There she goes, Doc.She has struck the grade.Say, Doc--"But his words fell upon empty space.The doctor had already disappeared.
"Say, he's a sprinter," said Billy to himself."He ain't takin' no chances on bein' late.Shouldn't be surprised if the Doc got there all right."He darted upstairs and looked around the ladies' parlor.The air was heavy with mingled odors of the bar and the kitchen.Aspittoon occupied a prominent place in the center of the room.The tables were dusty, the furniture in confusion.The ladies' parlor was perfectly familiar to Billy, but this morning he viewed it with new eyes.
"Say, the Doc ain't fair.He's too swift in his movements," he muttered to himself as he proceeded to fling things into their places.He raised the windows, opened the stove door and looked in.The ashes of many fires half filling the box met his eyes with silent reproach."Say, the Doc ain't fair," he muttered again.
"Them ashes ought to have been out of there long ago." This fact none knew better than himself, inasmuch as there was no other from whom this duty might properly be expected.Yet it brought some small relief to vent his disgust upon this offending accumulation of many days' neglect.There was not a moment to lose.He was due in ten minutes to meet the possible guests for the Royal at the train.He seized a pail left in the hall by the none too tidy housemaid and with his hands scooped into it the ashes from the stove, and, leaving a cloud of dust to settle everywhere upon tables and chairs, ran down with his pail and back again with kindling and firewood and had a fire going in an extraordinarily short time.He then caught up an ancient antimacassar, used it as a duster upon chairs and tables, flung it back again in its place over the rickety sofa and rushed for the station to find that the train had already pulled in, had come to a standstill and was disgorging its passengers upon the platform.
"Roy--al Ho--tel!" shouted Billy."Best in town! All the comforts and conveniences! Yes, sir! Take your grip, sir? Just give me them checks! That's all right, leave 'em to me.I'll get your baggage all right."He saw the doctor wandering distractedly up and down the platform.
"Hello, Doc, got your lady? Not on the Pullman, eh? Take a look in the First Class.Say, Doc," he added in a lower voice, coming near to the doctor, "what's that behind you?"The doctor turned sharply and saw a young lady whose long clinging black dress made her seem taller than she was.She wore a little black hat with a single feather on one side, which gave it a sort of tam o' shanter effect.She came forward with hand outstretched.
"I know you, Mr.Martin," she said in a voice that indicated immense relief.
"You?" he cried."Is it you? And to think I didn't know you.And to think you should remember me.""Remember! Well do I remember you--and that day in the Cuagh Oir--but you have forgotten all about that day." A little flush appeared on her pale cheek.
"Forgotten?" cried Martin.
"But you didn't know me," she added with a slight severity in her tone.
"I was not looking for you."
"Not looking for me?" cried the girl."Then who--?" She paused in a sudden confusion, and with a little haughty lift of her head said, "Where is Allan, my brother?"But the doctor ignored her question.He was gazing at her in stupid amazement.
"I was looking for a little girl," he said, "in a blue serge dress and tangled hair, brown, and all curls, with brown eyes and--""And you found a grown up woman with all the silly curls in their proper place--much older--very much older.It is a habit we have in Scotland of growing older.""Older?"
"Yes, older, and more sober and sensible--and plainer.""Plainer?" The doctor's mind was evidently not working with its usual ease and swiftness, partly from amazement at the transformation that had resulted in this tall slender young lady standing before him with her stately air, and partly from rage at himself and his unutterable stupidity.
"But you have not answered me," said the girl, obviously taken aback at the doctor's manner."Where is my brother? He was to meet me.This is Cal--gar--ry, is it not?""It's Calgary all right," cried the doctor, glad to find in this fact a solid resting place for his mind.
"And my brother? There is nothing wrong?" The alarm in her voice brought him to himself.
"Wrong? Not a bit.At least, not much.""Not much? Tell me at once, please." With an imperious air the young lady lifted her head and impaled the doctor with her flashing brown eyes.
"Well," said the doctor in halting confusion, "you see, he met with an accident.""An accident?" she cried."You are hiding something from me, Mr.
Martin.My brother is ill, or--"
"No, no, not he.An Indian hit him on the head," said the doctor, rendered desperate by her face.
"An Indian?" Her cry, her white face, the quick clutch of her hands at her heart, roused the doctor's professional instincts and banished his confusion.
