II
Familiar to the doctor's wife was the man with an injured leg, driven in
from the country on a Sunday afternoon and brought to the house. He
sat in a rocker in the back of a lumber-wagon, his face pale from the
anguish of the jolting. His leg was thrust out before him, resting on
a starch-box and covered with a leather-bound horse-blanket. His drab
courageous wife drove the wagon, and she helped Kennicott support him as
he hobbled up the steps, into the house.
"Fellow cut his leg with an ax--pretty bad gash--Halvor Nelson, nine
miles out," Kennicott observed.
Carol fluttered at the back of the room, childishly excited when she was
sent to fetch towels and a basin of water. Kennicott lifted the farmer
into a chair and chuckled, "There we are, Halvor! We'll have you out
fixing fences and drinking aquavit in a month." The farmwife sat on
the couch, expressionless, bulky in a man's dogskin coat and unplumbed
layers of jackets. The flowery silk handkerchief which she had worn over
her head now hung about her seamed neck.
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