Up The Hill And Over Part 14

The doctor started. But it was only Mrs. Sykes who had stepped around the house corner to pluck some flowers from the bed beneath the window.

As he did not answer, the voice continued, "That boy Burk has gone fishing. I told you you'd regret putting that new suit on to him, bra.s.s b.u.t.tons and all! Not that I want to say anything against the lad and his mother a widow, but when a person's dealing with a limb of mischief a person ought to know what to expect. Anybody sick over at Esther's house?"

The doctor, leaning against the door in deep reverie, did not seem to hear. Mrs. Sykes, after a suspicious glance, decided that perhaps he really had not heard, and proceeded.

"Not that I'm asking out of curiosity, Land sakes! But I've got some black currant jelly that sick folks fancy. I could spare a jar as well as not."

A pause.

The flower picker bunched her flowers into a tight round knot which she surveyed with pride. "That step-mother of Esther's now," she said. "I don't hold much with her. Flighty, I call her. Delicate, too, if looks don't lie. Men are queer. The only thing queerer is women. What d'ye suppose a sensible middle-aged man like Doctor Coombe ever saw in that pretty doll? And what did she see in him--old enough to be her father? A queer match, I call it. But they do say that her side of it is easy explained. Anyway it must have been a trying thing when the doctor's gold mine didn't--"

Mrs. Sykes' flow of words ceased abruptly, for rising from a last descent upon the rose bush she saw that her audience had vanished.

"Dear me! I hope he didn't think I was trying to be curious," said Mrs.

Sykes.

CHAPTER IX

It required some persuasion to induce Aunt Amy to consent to see the doctor. Doctors, she had found (with the single exception of Dr.

Coombe), were terribly unreasonable. They asked all kinds of questions, and never believed a word of the answers.

"And if I have a doctor," she declared tearfully, "I shall have to go to bed. And if I go to bed who will get supper? The sprigged tea-set--"

"But you won't need to go to bed, Auntie. You aren't ill, you know; just a little bit upset. If you feel like lying down why not use the sofa in my room? And even if you do not wish to see the doctor for yourself,"

Esther's tone was reproachful, "think what a good opportunity it is for us to get an opinion about mother. Don't you remember saying just the other day that you thought mother was foolish to be so nervous about doctors?"

"Yes, but she needn't stay in the room, need she, Esther? I don't want her in the room. She laughs. But I would like to lie on your sofa and if I must see him I had better wear my lavender cap."

"Yes, dear, and you will not mind mother staying--"

"But I do mind, Esther. And anyway she can't," triumphantly, "because she has gone out."

"Gone out? Mother? But she knew the doctor was coming and she promised--"

"Yes, I know. She said to tell you she had fully intended staying in until the doctor had been, but she had forgotten about the Ladies' Aid Meeting. She simply had to go to that. She said you could attend to the doctor quite as well as she could and that it was all nonsense anyway, because there was nothing whatever the matter with me." The faded eyes filled with tears again and Esther had much ado to prevent their imminent overflow.

She settled Aunt Amy upon the couch and adjusted the lavender cap without further betrayal of her own feelings, but in her heart she was both angry and hurt. Her mother had known of the doctor's intended visit and had distinctly promised to remain in to receive him. What would Dr.

Callandar think? It was most humiliating.

The Ladies' Aid Meeting was plainly an excuse for a deliberate shirking of responsibility. Or, worse still, Mrs. Coombe, divining Esther's double motive, may have left the house purposely to escape seeing the doctor on her own account. Esther well knew the stubbornness of which she was capable upon this one question, and the cunningness of it was like her. She had made no objections; she had not troubled to refuse or to argue--she had simply gone out.

Well, it was something to feel that she, Esther, had done what she could. At any rate, there was no time to worry, for the doctor was already coming up the walk.

Esther hurried to the door. It relieved her to find that he seemed to expect her, and showed no offence on realising that the patient's nearest relative was not at home to receive him. Indeed, he seemed to think of no one save the patient herself. His manner, Esther thought, was perfect. Had she been a little older she might have suspected such perfection, deducing from it that Callandar, like herself, was subconsciously aware of an interest in the situation not altogether professional. But the girl made no deductions and certainly there was no trace of any embarra.s.sment in the doctor's way with his patient. It took only a moment for Esther to decide that here, at least, she had done the right thing. She waited only long enough to see the frightened look in Aunt Amy's eyes replaced by one of timid confidence and then, murmuring an excuse, slipped away, leaving them together.

Callandar also waited while the startled eyes grew quiet and then lifted the fluttering hand into his own firm one.

"Creatures of habit, we doctors, aren't we?" he said, smiling. "Always taking people's temperatures."

Aunt Amy ventured upon a vague answering smile.

"I understand," continued the doctor, "that you have reason to fear that you have been poisoned?"

The hand began to flutter again, but quieted as the pleasant, confident voice went on:

"Your niece has told me something of the case but no details. Perhaps you can supply them for me. When exactly did it happen and what kind of poison was it?"

The fluttering hand became quite still and the eyes of Aunt Amy slowly filled with a great amazement. Here was an unbelievable thing--a doctor who did not argue or deny or playfully scold her for "fancies." A doctor who took her seriously and showed every intention of believing what she said. No one, save Dr. Coombe, had ever done that--

"It is always best in these cases to get the details from the patient herself," went on the doctor, encouragingly.

No, he was not laughing! Aunt Amy could detect nothing save the gravest of interest in his kindly eyes. An immense relief stole over her. A relief so great that Callandar, watching, felt his heart grow hot with pity.

"Oh, doctor!" she cried feebly, "I--" a rush of easy tears drowned the rest of the sentence.

Callandar let her cry. He knew the value of those tears. Presently when she grew more quiet he exchanged her soaking bit of cambric for his own more serviceable square. Aunt Amy dried her eyes on it and handed it back as simply as a child.

"Pray excuse me," she begged, "but--the relief! I might have died if you had not come." She went on brokenly. "You see," dropping her voice, "my relatives are _queer_. They have strange ideas. When I know things quite well they tell me I am mistaken. Mary, my niece, laughs. Even Esther, who tries to help me, thinks I do not know what I am talking about. They all argue in the most absurd manner. If I do not pretend always that I agree with them I have no peace. Sometimes when I tell some of the things I know, Esther looks frightened and says I am not to tell Jane.

So I try to keep everything to myself. I don't want the children to be frightened. They are young and ought to be happy. I was happy when I was young--at least, I think it was I. Sometimes I'm not sure whether it wasn't some other girl--I get confused--"

"Don't worry about it," said the doctor calmly. "Or about Miss Esther either. I want to hear all about the poison."

Aunt Amy remembered her precarious condition with a start. Her eyes grew vague.

"I don't know how They put it in," she said. "I didn't see Them, you know. I left my cup of coffee standing while I went to find Jane. I heard her crying. She had cut her finger and when I had bound it up I felt faint, so I foolishly forgot and picked up the coffee and drank it.

I wasn't quite myself or I should never have been so careless."

The doctor seemed to appreciate this point. "Did you taste anything in the coffee?" he asked.

"No. Of course They would be too clever for that!"

"And when did you begin to feel ill?"

"Just as soon as I remembered that I had forgotten to pour out a fresh cup." The navete of this statement was quite lost upon the eager speaker.

Esther, who had re-entered the room, opened her lips to improve this opportunity for argument but, meeting the doctor's eye, refrained.

Callandar took no notice of the significant admission.

"Where do you feel the pain now?" he asked.

Aunt Amy appeared disturbed.

"Mostly in my head--I--I think." She moved restlessly.

Callandar appeared to consider this.