I ain't never been much of a talker, but she
got me out o' that. She used to tease me at first, an' I'd get red in the
face an' almost bust. An' then, one day, it come, like a bung out of a
hole, an' I've had a hankerin' to talk ever since. Hurt me!"
He gave an incredulous chuckle, which ended in a cough.
"Do you know, I wish I could read better 'n I can!" he said suddenly,
leaning almost eagerly toward Father Brochet. "She knows I ain't great
shucks at that. She's goin' to have a school just as soon as she comes,
an' I'm goin' to be the scholar. She's got a packful of books an'
magazines an' I'm goin' to tote over a fresh load every winter. I'd like
to surprise her. Can't you help me to--"
Weyman pressed him back gently.
"See here, Bucky, you've got to lie down and keep quiet," he said. "If
you don't, it will take you a week longer to get well. Try and sleep a
little, while Father Brochet and I go outside and see what you've done."
When they went out, Weyman closed the door after them. He spoke no word
as he turned and looked upon what Bucky Severn had done for the coming of
his bride. Father Brochet's hand touched the doctor's and it was cold and
trembling.
"How is he?" he asked.
"It is the bad malady," said Weyman softly. "The frost has touched his
lungs. One does not feel the effect of that until spring comes. Then--a
cough--and the lungs begin literally to slough away.
Pages:
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213