"Helloa!" responded the doctor, coming over to him, "what's the go now?
you're improved already." "Got any objection to telling a lie ?"--this might be called coming to the point.
"That depends--" said the doctor.
"Well, all's fair in love and war, they say.

This is for love.

Help a fellow ?" "Of course,--if I can,--and the fellow's a good one, like Jim Given.
What is it you want ?" "Well, I want a letter written, and I can't do it myself, you know,"-- looking down at his still bandaged arm,--"likewise I want a lie told in it, and these ladies here are all angels, and of course you can't ask an angel to tell a lie,--no offence to you; so if you can take the time, and'll do it, I'll stand your everlasting debtor, and shoulder the responsibility if you're afraid of the weight." "What sort of a lie ?" "A capital one; listen.

I want a young lady to know that I'm wounded in the arm,--you see?
not bad; nor nothing over which she need worry, and nothing that hurts me much; and I ain't damaged in any other way; legs not mentioned in this concern,--you understand ?" The doctor nodded.

"But it's tied up my hand, so that I have to get you to say all this for me.
I'll be well pretty soon; and, if I can get a furlough, I'll be up in Philadelphia in a jiffy,--so she can just prepare for the infliction, &c.