University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.

After winding along the side of the mountain,
the road, on reaching the gentle declivity which
lay at the base of the hill, turned at a right angle
to its former course, and shot down an inclined
plain, directly into the village of Templeton.
The rapid little stream that we have already mentioned,
was crossed by a bridge of hewn timber,
which manifested, by its rude construction, and
the unnecessary size of its frame-work, both the
value of labour, and the abundance of materials.
This little torrent, whose dark waters gushed in
mimic turbulence over the limestones that lined
its bottom, was nothing less than one of the many
sources of the Susquehanna; a river, to which the
Atlantic herself, has extended her right arm, to
welcome into her bosom. It was at this point,
that the powerful team of Mr. Jones brought him
up to the more sober steeds of our travellers. A
small hill was risen, and the astonished Elizabeth
found herself, at once, amid the incongruous
dwellings of the village. The street was laid out
of the width of an ordinary avenue to a city, notwithstanding
that the eye might embrace in one

view, thousands, and tens of thousands of acres,
that were yet tenanted only by the beasts of the
forest. But such had been the will of her father,
and such had also met the wishes of his followers.
To them, the road, that made the most rapid approaches
to the condition of the old, or, as they expressed
it, the down countries, was the most pleasant;
and surely nothing could look more like civilization,
than a city, even if it lay in a wilderness!
The width of the street, for so it was called,
might have been one hundred feet; but the track
for the sleighs was much more limited. On either
side of the highway, were piled before the houses,
huge heaps of logs that were daily increasing than
diminishing in size, notwithstanding the enormous
fires that might be seen, lighting every window
through the dusk of the evening.

The last object at which Elizabeth had gazed
when they renewed their journey, after the rencontre
with Richard, was the sun, as it expanded in the
refraction of the horizon, and over whose disk, the
dark umbrage of a pine was stealing, while it slowly
sunk behind the western hills. But his setting
rays darted along the openings of the mountain
she was on, and lighted the shining covering of
the birches, until their smooth and glossy coats,
nearly rivalled the mountain-sides in colour. The
out-line of each dark pine was delineated far in the
depths of the forest; and the rocks, too smooth
and too perpendicular to retain the snow that had
fallen, brightened, as if smiling in scorn, at the
changes in the season. But at each step, as they
descended, Elizabeth observed that they were
leaving the day behind them. Even the heartless,
but bright rays of a December sun, were missed,
as they glided into the cold gloom of the valley.
Along the summits of the mountains in the eastern
range, it is true, that the light still lingered, receding

step by step from the earth into the few clouds
that were gathering, with the evening mist, about
the limited horizon; but the frozen lake lay without
a shadow on its chill bosom; the dwellings
were becoming already gloomy and indistinct;
and the wood-cutters were shouldering their axes,
and preparing to enjoy, throughout the long
evening before them, the comforts of those exhilarating
fires that their labour had been supplying
with fuel. They paused only to gaze at the passing
sleighs, to lift their caps to Marmaduke, to exchange
familiar nods with Richard, and each disappeared
in his dwelling. The paper curtains
dropped behind our travellers in every window,
shutting from the air even the fire-light of their
cheerful apartments; and when the horses of her
father turned, with a rapid whirl, into the open
gate of the mansion-house, and nothing stood before
her but the cold, dreary stone-walls of the
building, as she approached them through an
avenue of young and leafless poplars, Elizabeth
felt as if all the loveliness of the mountain-view
had vanished like the fancies of a dream. Marmaduke
retained so much of his early habits as to
reject the use of bells, but the equipage of Mr.
Jones came dashing through the gate after them,
sending its jingling sounds through every cranny
in the building, and in a moment the dwelling was
in an uproar.

On a stone platform, of rather small proportions,
considering the size of the building, Richard
and Hiram had, conjointly, reared four little columns
of wood, which in their turn supported the
shingled roofs of the portico—this was the name
that Mr. Jones had thought proper to give to a
very plain, covered, entrance to the mansion.—
The ascent to the platform was by five or six
stone steps, somewhat hastily laid together, and

which the frost had already begun to move from
their symmetrical positions. But the evils of a
cold climate, and a superficial construction, did
not end here. As the steps lowered, the platform
necessarily fell also, and the foundations actually
left the superstructure suspended in the air, leaving
an open space of a foot from the base of the
pillars to the bases on which they had originally
been placed. It was lucky for the whole fabric,
that the carpenter, who did the manual part of the
labour, had fastened the canopy of this classic entrance
so firmly to the side of the house, that, when
the base deserted the superstructure in the manner
we have described, and the pillars, for the
want of a foundation, were no longer of service to
support the roof, the roof was able to uphold the
pillars. Here was indeed an unfortunate gap
left in the ornamental part of Richard's column;
but, like the window in Aladdin's palace, it seemed
only left in order to prove the fertility of its
master's resources. The composite order again
offered its advantages, and a second edition of the
base was given, as the booksellers say, with additions
and improvements. It was necessarily larger,
and it was properly ornamented with mouldings:
still the steps continued to yield, and, at the
moment when Elizabeth returned to her father's
door, a few rough wedges were driven under the
pillars to keep them steady, and to prevent their
weight from separating them from the pediment
which they ought to have supported.

From the great door, which opened into the
porch, emerged two or three female domestics,
and one male. The latter was bare-headed, but
evidently more dressed than usual, and in the
whole, was of so singular a formation and attire,
as to deserve a more minute description. He was
about five feet in height, of a square and athletic

frame, with a pair of shoulders that would have fitted
a grenadier. His low stature was rendered
the more striking by a bend forward that he was
in the habit of assuming, for no apparent reason,
unless it might be in order to give a greater freedom
to his arms, in a particularly sweeping swing,
that they constantly practised when their master
was in motion. His face was long, of a fair complexion,
burnt to a fiery red; with a snub nose,
cocked into an inveterate pug; a mouth of enormous
dimensions, filled with fine teeth; and a
pair of blue eyes, that seemed to look about them,
on surrounding objects, with vast contempt. His
head composed full one-fourth of his whole length,
and the queue that depended from its rear occupied
another. He wore a coat of very light drab
cloth, with buttons as large as dollars, bearing the
impression of a “foul anchor.” The skirts were
extremely long, reaching quite to the calf, and
were broad in proportion. Beneath, there were a
vest and breeches of red plush, somewhat worn and
soiled. He had shoes with large buckles, and
stockings of blue and white stripes.

This odd-looking figure reported himself to be
a native of the county of Cornwall, in the island
of Great Britain. His boyhood had passed in the
neighbourhood of the tin mines, and his youth as
the cabin-boy of a smuggler, between Falmouth
and Guernsey. From this trade he was impressed
into the service of his king, and, for the want of a
better, had been taken into the cabin, first as a
servant, and finally as steward to the captain.
Here he acquired the art of making chowder, lobskous,
and one or two other sea-dishes, and, as he
was fond of saying, had an opportunity of seeing
the world. With the exception of one or two outports
in France, and an occasional visit to Portsmouth,

Plymouth, and Deal, he had in reality seen
no more of mankind, however, than if he had been
riding a donkey in one of his native mines. But,
being discharged from the navy at the peace of '83,
he declared, that, as he had seen all the civilized
parts of the world, he was inclined to a trip to the
wilds of America. We will not trace him in his
brief wanderings, under the influence of that spirit
of emigration, that sometimes induces a dapper
Cockney to quit his home, and lands him, before
the sound of Bow bells is fairly out of his ears,
within the roar of the cataract of Niagara, but
shall only add, that, at a very early day, even before
Elizabeth had been sent to school, he had
found his way into the family of Marmaduke
Temple. where, owing to a combination of qualities,
he held. under Mr. Jones, the office of majordomo.
The name of this worthy was Benjamin
Penguillan, according to his own pronunciation;
but, owing to a marvellous tale that he was in the
habit of relating, concerning the length of time he
had to labour to keep his ship from sinking after
Rodney's victory, he had universally acquired the
nickname of Ben Pump.

By the side of Benjamin, and pressing forward
as if a little jealous of her station, stood a middle-aged
woman, dressed in calico, rather violently
contrasted in colour, with a tall, meager, shapeless
figure, sharp features, and a somewhat acute expression
in her physiognomy. Her teeth were
mostly gone, and what did remain were of a light
yellow. The skin of her nose was drawn tightly
over the member, and then suffered to hang in
large wrinkles in her cheeks and about her mouth.
She took snuff in such large quantities, as to create
the impression, that she owed the saffron of
her lips and the adjacent parts, to this circumstance;
but it was the unvarying colour of her

whole face. She presided over the female part of
the domestic arrangements, in the capacity of
housekeeper; was a spinster, and bore the name of
Remarkable Pettibone. To Elizabeth she was
an entire stranger, having been introduced into
the family since the death of her mother.

In addition to these, were three or four subordinate
menials, mostly black, some appearing at
the principal door, and some running from the
end of the building, where stood the entrance to
the cellar-kitchen.

Besides these, there was a general rush from
Richard's kennel, accompanied with every canine
tone, from the howl of the wolf-dog to the petulant
bark of the terrier. The master received
their boisterous salutations with a variety of imitations
from his own throat, when the dogs, probably
from shame at being outdone, ceased their
outcry. One stately, powerful mastiff, who wore
around his neck a brass collar, with “M. T.” engraved
in large letters on the rim; alone was silent.
He walked majestically, amid the confusion,
to the side of the Judge, where, receiving a kind
pat or two, he turned to Elizabeth, who even
stooped to kiss him, as she called him kindly by
the name of “Old Brave.” The animal seemed
to know her, as she ascended the steps, supported
by Monsieur Le Quoi and her father, in order to
protect her from falling on the ice, with which
they were covered. He looked wistfully after her
figure, and when the door closed on the whole
party, he laid himself in a kennel that was placed
nigh by, as if conscious that the house contained
something of additional value to guard.

Elizabeth followed her father, who paused a
moment to whisper a message to one of his domestics,
into a large hall, that was dimly lighted by
two candles, placed in high, old-fashioned, brass

candlesticks. The door closed, and the party
were at once removed from an atmosphere that
was nearly at zero, to one of sixty degrees above.
In the centre of the hall stood an enormous stove,
the sides of which appeared to be quivering with
the heat it emitted; from which a large, straight
pipe, leading through the ceiling above, carried
off the smoke. An iron basin, containing water,
was placed on this furnace, for such only it could
be called, in order to preserve a proper humidity
in the apartment. The room was carpeted, and
furnished with convenient, substantial furniture, of
a great variety in its appearance and materials;
some of which was brought from the city, and the
remainder manufactured by the mechanics of Templeton.
There was a sideboard of mahogany, inlaid
with ivory, and bearing enormous handles of
glittering brass, and groaning under piles of silver
plate. Near it stood a set of prodigious tables,
made of the wild cherry, to imitate the imported
wood of the sideboard, but plain, and without ornament
of any kind. Opposite to these stood a
smaller table, formed from a lighter coloured wood,
through the grains of which the wavy lines of the
curled-maple of the mountains were undulating in
precise regularity. Near to this, in a corner,
stood a heavy, old-fashioned, brass-faced clock,
encased in a high box, with the dark hue of the
black-walnut from the seashore. An enormous
settee, or sofa, covered with light chintz, stretched
along the walls for near twenty feet on one side of
the hall, and chairs of wood, painted a light yellow,
with black lines that were drawn by no very
steady hand, were ranged opposite, and in the intervals
between the other pieces of furniture. A
Fahrenheit's thermometer, in a mahogany case,
and with a barometer annexed, was hung against
the wall, at some little distance from the stove,
which Benjamin consulted, every half-hour, with
prodigious veneration. Two small glass chandeliers
were suspended at equal distances between the
stove and the outer doors, one of which opened at
either end of the hall, and gilt lustres were affixed
to the frame-work of the numerous side doors that
led from the apartment. Some little display in architecture
had been made in constructing these
frames and casings, which were surmounted with
pediments, that bore each a little pedestal in its
centre. On these pedestals were small busts in
blacked plaster of Paris. The style of the pedestals,
as well as the selection of the busts, had been
executed under the auspices of Mr. Jones. On
one stood Homer, a most striking likeness, Richard
affirmed, “as any one might see, for it was
blind.” Another bore the image of a smooth
visaged gentleman, with a pointed beard, whom
he called Shakspeare. A third ornament was an
urn, which, from its shape, Richard was accustomed
to say, intended to represent itself as holding
the ashes of Dido. A fourth was certainly old
Franklin, in his cap and spectacles. A fifth as
surely bore the dignified composure of the face of
Washington. A sixth was a non-descript, representing
“a man with a shirt-collar open,” to use
the language of Richard, “with a laurel on his
head;—it was Julius Cæsar or Dr. Faustus; there
were good reasons for believing either.”

The walls were hung with a dark, lead-coloured
English paper, that represented Britannia weeping
over the tomb of Wolfe. The hero himself stood
at a little distance from the mourning goddess, at
the edge of the paper. Each width contained the
figure, with the slight exception of one arm of the
General running over on to the next piece, so that
when Richard essayed, with his own hands, to put
together this delicate outline, some difficulties

occurred, that prevented a nice conjunction, and
Britannia had reason to lament, in addition to the
loss of her favourite's life, numberless cruel amputations
of his right arm.

The luckless cause of these unnatural divisions
announced his presence in the hall by a loud crack
of his whip, that startled the party, and his voice
was first heard, exclaiming—

“Why, Benjamin! you Ben Pump! is this the
manner in which you receive the heiress? Excuse
him, cousin Elizabeth. The arrangements were
too delicate and nice to be trusted to every one;
but now I am here, things will go on better.—
Come, light up, Mr. Penguillan, light up, light
up, and let us see one another's faces. Well,
'duke, I have brought home your deer; what is to
be done with it, ha?”

“By the lord, Squire,” commenced Benjamin
in reply, first giving his mouth a wipe with the
back of his hand, “if this here thing had been ordered
sum'at earlier in the day, it might have been
got up, d'ye see, to your liking. I had mustered
all hands, and was exercising candles, when you
hove in sight; but when the women heard your
bells, they started an end, as if they were riding
the boatswain's colt; and, if-so-be there is that
man in the house, who can bring up a parcel of
women when they have got headway on them, until
they've run out the end of their rope, his name
is not Benjamin Pump. But Miss Betsy here,
must have altered more than a privateer in disguise,
since she has got on her woman's duds, if
she will go to take offence with an old fellow, for
the small matter of lighting a few candles.”

Elizabeth and her father continued silent, for
both experienced the same sensations on entering
the hall. The former had resided one year in
the building before she left home for the school,

and the figure of its late lamented mistress was
missed by both the husband and the child.

But candles had been placed in the chandeliers
and lustres, and the attendants were so far recovered
from their surprise as to recollect their
use: the oversight was immediately remedied,
and in a minute the apartment was in a blaze
of light.

The slight melancholy of our heroine and her
father was banished by this brilliant interruption;
and the whole party began to lay aside the numberless
garments that they had worn in the air.

During this operation, Richard kept up a desultory
dialogue with the different domestics, occasionally
throwing out a remark to the Judge concerning
the deer; but as his conversation at such
moments was much like an accompaniment on a
piano, a thing that is heard without being attended
to, we will not undertake the task of recording
his wonderfully diffuse discourse.

The instant that Remarkable Pettibone had
executed her portion of the labour in illuminating,
she returned to a position near Elizabeth, with the
apparent motive of receiving the clothes that the
other threw aside, but in reality to examine, with
an air of mingled curiosity and jealousy, the appearance
of the lady who was to supplant her in
the administration of their domestic economy. The
housekeeper felt a little appalled, when, after
cloak, coats, shawls, and socks had been taken off
in succession, the large black hood was removed,
and the dark ringlets, shining like the raven's
wing, fell from her head, and left the sweet but
commanding features of the young lady exposed
to view. Nothing could be fairer and more spotless
than the forehead of Elizabeth, and preserve
the appearance of life and health. Her nose
would have been called Grecian, but for a softly

rounded swell, that gave in character to the feature
what it lost in beauty. Her mouth, at first
sight, seemed only made for love; but the instant
that its muscles moved, every expression that womanly
dignity could utter, played around it, with
the flexibility of female grace. It spoke not only
to the ear, but to the eye. So much, added to
a form of exquisite proportions, rather full and
rounded for her years, and of the tallest medium
height, she inherited from her mother. Even the
colour of her eye, the arched brows, and the long
silken lashes, came from the same source; but its
expression was her father's. Inert and composed,
it was soft, benevolent, and attractive; but it
could be roused, and that without much difficulty.
At such moments it was still beautiful, though it
was beauty in its grandeur. As the last shawl fell
aside, and she stood, dressed in a rich blue riding-habit,
that fitted her form with the nicest exactness;
her cheeks burning with roses, that bloomed the
richer for the heat of the hall, and her eyes slightly
suffused with moisture, that rendered their ordinary
beauty more dazzling, and with every feature
of her speaking countenance illuminated by
the lights that flared around her, Remarkable felt
that her own power had ended.

The business of unrobing had been simultaneous.
Marmaduke appeared in a suit of plain
neat black; Monsieur Le Quoi, in a coat of
snuff-colour, covering a vest of embroidery, with
breeches, and silk stockings, and buckles—that
were commonly thought to be of paste. Major
Hartmann wore a coat of sky-blue, with large
brass buttons, a club wig, and boots; and Mr.
Richard Jones had set off his dapper little form in
a frock of bottle-green, with bullet buttons; by
one of which the sides were united over his well-rounded
waist, opening above, so as to show a

jacket of red cloth, with an under vest of flannel,
faced with green velvet, and below, so as to exhibit
a pair of buckskin breeches, with long, soiled,
white-top boots, and spurs; one of the latter
a little bent, from its recent attacks on the unfortunate
stool.

When the young lady had extricated herself
from the duresse of her garments, she was at liberty
to gaze about her, and to examine not only the
household over which she was to preside, but also
the air and manner in which their domestic arrangements
were conducted. Although there was
much incongruity in the furniture and appearance
of the hall, there was nothing mean. The floor
was carpeted, even in its remotest corners. The
brass candlesticks, the gilt lustres, and the glass
chandeliers, whatever might be their keeping as to
propriety and taste, were admirably kept as to all
the purposes of use and comfort. They were all
clean, and each glittering, in the strong light of
the apartment, with its peculiar lustre. Compared
with the chill aspect of the December night
without, the warmth and brilliancy of the apartment
produced an effect that was not unlike enchantment.
Her eye had not time to detect in detail
the little errors, which, in truth, existed, but
was glancing around her in delight, when an object
arrested her view, that was strongly contrasted
to the smiling faces and neatly attired personages
who had thus assembled to do honour to the
heiress of Templeton.

In a corner of the hall, near to the grand entrance,
stood the young hunter, unnoticed, and
for the moment apparently forgotten. But even
the forgetfulness of the Judge, which, under the
influence of strong emotion, had banished the recollection
of the wound of this stranger, seemed
surpassed by the absence of mind in the youth

himself. On entering the apartment he had mechanically
lifted his cap, and exposed a head, covered
with hair that rivalled in colour and gloss
the locks of Elizabeth. Nothing could have
wrought a greater transformation, than the single
act of removing the rough fox-skin cap. If
there was much that was prepossessing in the
countenance of the young hunter, there was something
noble in the rounded outlines of his head
and brow. The very air and manner with which
the member haughtily maintained itself over the
coarse, and even wild attire, in which the rest of
his frame was clad, bespoke not only familiarity
with a splendour that in those new settlements was
thought to be unequalled, but something very like
contempt also.

The hand that held the cap, rested lightly on the
little ivory-mounted piano of Elizabeth, with neither
rustic restraint, nor obtrusive vulgarity. A
single finger touched the instrument, as if accustomed
to dwell on such places. His other arm was extended
to its utmost length, and the hand grasped
the barrel of his long rifle, with something like
convulsive energy. The act and the attitude
were both involuntary, and evidently proceeded
from a feeling much deeper than that of vulgar
surprise. His appearance, connected as it was
with the rough exterior of his dress, rendered him
entirely distinct from the busy group that were
moving across the other end of the long hall, occupied
in receiving the travellers, and exchanging
their welcomes; and Elizabeth, herself as much an
object to be looked at by others, continued to gaze
at him in a kind of stupid wonder. The contraction
of the stranger's brows increased, as his
eyes moved slowly from one object to another. For
moments the expression of his countenance was

fierce, and then again it seemed to pass away in
some painful emotion. The arm, that was extended.
bent, and brought the hand nigh to his face,
when his head dropped upon it, and concealed
the wonderfully speaking lineaments of his features.

“We forget, dear sir, the strange gentleman,”
(for her life Elizabeth could not call him otherwise,)
“whom we have brought here for assistance,
and to whom we owe every attention.”

All eyes were instantly turned in the direction
of those of the speaker, and the youth, rather
proudly, elevated his head again, while he answered—

“My wound is trifling, and I believe that Judge
Temple sent for a physician the moment we arrived.”

“Certainly,” said Marmaduke; “I have not
forgotten the object of thy visit, young man, nor
the nature of my debt to thee.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Richard, with something of
a waggish leer, “thou owest the lad for the venison,
I suppose, that thou killed, cousin 'duke!
Marmaduke! Marmaduke! That was a marvellous
tale of thine about the buck! Here, young
man, are two dollars for the deer, and Judge
Temple can do no less than pay the doctor. I shall
charge you nothing for my services, but you shall
not fare the worse for that. Come, come, 'duke,
don't be down-hearted about it; if you missed the
buck, you contrived to shoot this poor fellow
through a pine tree. Now I own that you have beat
me; I never did such a thing in all my life.”

“And I hope never will,” returned the Judge,
“if you are to experience the uneasiness that I
have suffered. But be of good cheer, my young
friend, the injury must be but small, as thou movest
thy arm with apparent freedom.”

“Don't make the matter worse, 'duke, by pretending
to talk about surgery,” interrupted Mr.
Jones, with a contemptuous wave of the hand;
“it is a science that can only be learnt by practice.
You know that my grandfather was a doctor,
but you haven't got a drop of medical blood
in your veins; these kind of things run in families.
All my family by the father's side had a
knack at physic. There was my uncle that was
killed at Brandywine, he died twice as easy as any
other man in the regiment, only from knowing
how to do the thing as it ought to be done.”

“I doubt not, Dickon,” returned the Judge
playfully, after meeting the bright smile, which,
in spite of himself, stole over the stranger's features,
“that thy family understood the art of letting
a life slip through their fingers with great facility.”

Richard heard him quite coolly, and, putting a
hand in either pocket of his surtout, so as to press
forward the skirts with an air of vast disdain, began
to whistle a tune; but the desire to reply overcame
his philosophy, and with great heat he exclaimed—

“You may affect to smile, Judge Temple, at
hereditary virtues, if you please; but there is not
a man on your Patent who don't know better.—
Here, even this young man, who has never seen
any thing but bears, and deers, and wood-chucks,
knows better, than not to believe in virtues being
transmitted down in families. Don't you, friend?”

“I believe that vice is not,” said the stranger
abruptly, his eye glancing keenly from the father
to the daughter.

“The Squire is right, Judge,” observed Benjamin,
with a knowing nod of his head towards
Richard, that bespoke the cordiality between
them. “Now, in the old country, the King's Majesty

touches for the evil, and that is a disorder that
the greatest doctor in the fleet, or, for the matter
of that, admiral either, can't cure; only the King's
Majesty, or a man that's been hung. Oh! yes,
the Squire is right, for if-so-be that he wasn't, how
is it that the seventh son always is a doctor, whether
he ships for the cock-pit or not? Now, when
we fell in with the mounsheers, under De Grass,
d'ye see, we had aboard of us a doctor—”

“Very well, Benjamin,” interrupted Elizabeth,
glancing her eyes from the hunter to Monsieur Le
Quoi, who was most politely attending to what fell
from each individual in succession, “you shall
tell me of that, and all your entertaining adventures
together; just now, a room must be prepared,
in which the arm of this gentleman can be
dressed.”

“I will attend to that myself, cousin Elizabeth,”
observed Richard, somewhat haughtily.—
“The young man shall not suffer, because Marmaduke
chooses to be a little obstinate. Follow
me, my friend, and I will examine the hurt myself.”

“It will be well to wait for the physician,” said
the hunter coldly; “he cannot be distant; I will
save you the trouble.”

Richard paused, and looked earnestly at the
speaker, a little astonished at the language, and
a good deal appalled at the refusal. He instantly
construed the latter into an act of hostility, and,
placing his hands in the pockets again, he walked
up to Mr. Grant, and putting his face close to the
countenance of the divine, he said in an under
tone—

“Now mark my words: there will be a story
among the settlers, that all our necks would have
been broken, but for that fellow there—as if I did
not know how to drive. Why, you might have

turned the horses yourself, sir; nothing was easier;
it was only pulling hard on the nigh rein, and
touching the off flank of the leader. I hope, my
dear sir, you are not at all hurt by the upset the
lad gave us?”

The reply was interrupted by the entrance of
the village physician.