"Look at this, I ask you! From Mary Murphy, saying her husband is
quite well, and that he took the turn for good from the minute he was
anointed! And me lying here crippled!"
"'The dog it was that died!'" quoted Dr. Mangan, smoothly.
"What dog?" demanded Father Sweeny, with indignation, "I d'no what
you're talking about!"
"Ah, nothing, nothing," said the Big Doctor, with a lift of the spirit
at the thought of his superior culture, "but surely it wasn't to show
me Mary Murphy's letter that you sent poor Sister Maria Joseph on a
fool's errand?"
"Why a fool's errand?" demanded the now incensed Father Sweeny. "What
d'ye mean?"
"Look at the newspaper on the floor here," returned the Doctor.
"You'll have her back in a minute, begging your pardon again, to tell
you so."
Father Sweeny glared, speechless, at his tormentor for an instant;
then, rinding the Big Doctor unmoved "in the furnace of his look," he
fell back on his pillows.
"Lock the door!" he commanded angrily. He pushed a letter into the
Doctor's hand. "Read that!"
"Hullo! The Major! What's _he_ got to say to you, Father Tim?"
"Read it, I tell you!"
Dr. Mangan did so, with attention, and read it a second time before he
replaced it in its envelope and handed it back to the priest.
"That's a nice letter!" said Father Sweeny, with a snort that he
believed to be a laugh.
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