My Lady's Money
"WELL?" asked Isabel eagerly, "what does Mr. Hardyman say? Does he think he
can cure Tommie?"
Moody answered a little coldly and stiffly. His dark, deeply-set eyes rested on
Isabel with an uneasy look.
"Mr. Hardyman seems to understand animals," he said. "He lifted the dog's eyelid
and looked at his eyes, and then he told us the bath was useless."
"Go on!" said Isabel impatiently. "He did something, I suppose, besides telling
you that the bath was useless?"
"He took a knife out of his pocket, with a lancet in it."
Isabel clasped her hands with a faint cry of horror. "Oh, Mr. Moody! did he hurt
"Hurt him?" Moody repeated, indignant at the interest which she felt in the
animal, and the indifference which she exhibited towards the man (as
represented by himself). "Hurt him, indeed! Mr. Hardyman bled the brute--"
"Brute?" Isabel reiterated, with flashing eyes. "I know some people, Mr. Moody,
who really deserve to be called by that horrid word. If you can't say 'Tommie,'
when you speak of him in my presence, be so good as to say 'the dog.' "
Moody yielded with the worst possible grace. "Oh, very well! Mr. Hardyman bled
the dog, and brought him to his senses directly. I am charged to tell you--" He
stopped, as if the message which he was instructed to deliver was in the last
degree distasteful to him.
"Well, what were you charged to tell me?"