"A good man," she thought, "and a clever one. I am glad to have seen him."
Then she covered the picture up and changed the subject of conversation, for her quick eyes noted Jean's downcast looks.
"Now," said Dr. Fergusson presently, "may I ask for paper and ink? I want to write a prescription for our patient, Miss McTaggart."
He sat down, and glanced more than once at Jean, as he wrote. Then he came over to her and held out his hand.
"I am going, but you will see me again to-morrow. I am ordering you a tonic, and a lotion for that hand. You are fortunate in having such a friend as Miss McTaggart to look after you."
"I am," said Jean, gratefully.
Dr. Fergusson still kept her hand in his whilst he talked, and Jean knew he was quietly feeling her pulse. When he went downstairs, he turned to Barbara, who was following him.
"You are right," he said in his quick, incisive tones. "She is half-starved and thoroughly below par. Has it been necessary for her to neglect herself so?"
"I am afraid it has," said Barbara. "I found her, as I told you, with absolutely nothing in the way of nourishment."
"Give her something every two hours. If we wish to prevent blood-poisoning setting in, she must be thoroughly well fed and strengthened. She has evidently had a slight attack of low fever from general debility. I will come in to-morrow afternoon. Is Mr. Oxton in town? I thought he would have looked after her interests better."