“Don't be alarmed, but read that first,” she said, handing her sister the paper. “It was brought just now.”
Kate instantly recognized her brother's distinct hand. She read hurriedly, “The coach was robbed last night; nobody hurt. I've lost nothing but a day's time, as this business will keep me here until to-morrow, when Manuel can join me with a fresh horse. No cause for alarm. As the bearer goes out of his way to bring you this, see that he wants for nothing.”
“Well, the 'bearer' was fired upon by the robbers, who were lurking on the Ridge. He was wounded in the leg. Luckily he was picked up by his friend, who was coming to meet him, and brought here as the nearest place. He's up-stairs in the spare bed in the spare room, with his friend, who won't leave his side. He won't even have mother in the room. They've stopped the bleeding with John's ambulance things, and now, Kate, here's a chance for you to show the value of your education in the ambulance class. The ball has got to be extracted. Here's your opportunity.”
Kate looked at her sister curiously. There was a faint pink flush on her pale cheeks, and her eyes were gently sparkling. She had never seen her look so pretty before.
“Why not have sent Manuel for a doctor at once?” asked Kate.
“The nearest doctor is fifteen miles away, and Manuel is nowhere to be found. Perhaps he's gone to look after the stock. There's some talk of snow; imagine the absurdity of it!”
“They speak of themselves as 'friends,' as if it were a profession. The wounded one was a passenger, I suppose.”
“But what are they like?” continued Kate. “I suppose they're like them all.”
“The wounded one, when he's not fainting away, is laughing. The other is a creature with a moustache, and gloomy beyond expression.”
“What are you going to do with them?” said Kate.
“What should I do? Even without John's letter I could not refuse the shelter of my house to a wounded and helpless man. I shall keep him, of course, until John comes. Why, Kate, I really believe you are so prejudiced against these people you'd like to turn them out. But I forget! It's because you LIKE them so well. Well, you need not fear to expose yourself to the fascinations of the wounded Christy Minstrel--I'm sure he's that--or to the unspeakable one, who is shyness itself, and would not dare to raise his eyes to you.”