Part 14 (1/2)

”Going out!” repeated Geoffrey, in dismay.

”Yes. I have some errands to do. What is it?” for the cloud on his brow was unmistakable.

”Oh--nothing! I thought you were going to see to this crack in my skull, but it's no matter.”

”It is hardly two hours since I dressed it,” said Vesta. ”I thought you said it felt very comfortable.”

”Well--it did; but it hurts now, considerably. No matter, though, if you are busy I dare say I could get Pottle to come in sometime in the course of the day.”

He had the grace to be ashamed of himself, when Vesta brought basin and sponge, and began quietly and patiently to dress the injured temple.

”I know I am fractious,” he said, plaintively. ”I can't seem to help it.”

He looked up, and saw her clear eyes intent and full of light.

”It is healing beautifully!” she said. ”I wish you could see it; it's a lovely colour now.”

”It's a shame to give you all this trouble,” said Geoffrey, trying to feel real contrition.

”Oh, but I like it!” he was cheerfully a.s.sured. ”It's delightful to see a cut like this.”

”Thank you!” said Geoffrey. ”I used to feel that way myself.”

”And the callous is going to form quickly in the arm, I am sure of it!”

said Vesta, with s.h.i.+ning eyes. ”I am so pleased with you, Doctor Strong! And now--there! is that all right? Take the gla.s.s and see if you like the looks of it. I think the turban effect is rather becoming.

Now--is there any one you would like me to go and see while I am out?

Of course--I have no diploma, nothing of the sort, but I could carry out your orders faithfully, and report to you.”

”Oh, you are very good!” said Geoffrey. ”But--you would be gone all the--I mean--your aunts might need you, don't you think?”

”No, indeed! Aunt Phoebe is better--I gave her the drops, and Aunt Vesta is bathing her now with the lotion--I can take the afternoon perfectly well. Your case-book? this one? no, truly, Doctor Strong, it will be a pleasure, a real pleasure.”

”You're awfully good!” said Geoffrey, ruefully.

”It is the _most_ unfortunate combination I ever heard of!” said Miss Phoebe Blyth.

Miss Phoebe was in bed, too, and suffering very considerable discomfort. Erysipelas is not a thing to speak lightly of; and if it got into Miss Phoebe's temper as well as into her eyes, this was not to be wondered at.

Miss Vesta murmured some soothing words, and bathed the angry red places gently; but Miss Phoebe was not to be soothed.

”It is all very well for you, Vesta,” said the poor lady, ”you have never had any responsibility; of course it is not to be supposed that you should have, with what you have gone through. But with all I have on _my_ shoulders, to be laid up in this way is--really, I must say!”

This last remark was the sternest censure that Miss Phoebe was ever known to bestow upon the Orderings of Providence.

”Has Doctor Pottle attended to the doctor's arm this morning?”

This was the question Miss Vesta had been dreading. She pretended not to hear it; but it was repeated with incisive severity.