"True!" and the doctor bent his head slightly, with a reverent gesture. "Let me see, your name is—"
"Susan Dunn, sir."
"Dunn! Ah—then it would be your husband who called on me. Dunn!" and he looked thoughtful. "I seem to have some sort of connection with the word. Well, nothing can be better than that you should stay here to-night. Mrs. Stuart accepts your kind offer, of course."
"I can do for myself," said Mrs. Stuart stolidly.
"Stuff!" Mr. Rawdon answered, rising. "You can do for your foot, if you like—and you would do for it most effectually, without help. That is settled, then. To-morrow morning I will look in, and we shall see what can be arranged next. Very much obliged to you, Mrs. Dunn. 'A friend in need is a friend indeed.' Mrs. Stuart will have no cause to say again that she has no friends."
Mrs. Stuart made no response. The doctor gave Susan a few careful directions.
"Mind, you are not to put your foot to the ground," he said, turning to Mrs. Stuart. "Your son and Mrs. Dunn will get you upstairs, and you must go to bed at once. Stay there, of course, till I come again. Good evening."
Mr. Rawdon looked rather curiously at the patient's glum visage, smiled at Mrs. Dunn's cheery face, and left the cottage at a quick pace.
Halfway through the next street, he was overtaken by Mr. Wilmot. Those two worked hand-in-hand among the needy and suffering.
"The very man I had in my mind at this moment," quoth Mr. Rawdon. "How do you do? All right?"