"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Mabel was at once all sympathy and concern. "You must come and lie down on the sofa, and I'll fetch you my bottle of eau-de-Cologne. There! Now you'll feel more comfortable. Would you like some soda water, or lemon juice? I believe it's a very good thing. I never remember your having a bilious attack before."
"I don't often," said Aldred, who, indeed, was seldom troubled with illness of any kind.
"I'll ask Mother if she can give you some medicine. You must get well by to-morrow! We couldn't possibly go to Evington without you. Think how disappointed Cousin Marion would be—and so should I, for I'm looking forward so much to taking you!"
In spite of herself, Aldred could not stifle a groan of despair.
"Do you really feel so poorly? Are you in pain? Perhaps we ought to send for the doctor. I'll go and fetch Mother immediately; she's a splendid nurse."
"No, no! Please don't!" cried Aldred. "I dare say I shall be better soon. I don't want to make a fuss, and upset everybody."
"You never do that, you're too unselfish and considerate. I know how ill you must feel, to mention it at all. I hope it's nothing serious!" and Mabel rushed off in quite a fever of excitement and alarm, to fetch her mother.
Lady Muriel was kindness itself.
"I expect you are a little overdone, dear child," she said. "We have been working you rather hard at sight-seeing, and perhaps letting you stay up too late. After the regular hours at school, the holidays are sometimes apt to upset young people. If your head aches, wouldn't you like to go to your bedroom, and rest quite quietly?"
"Yes, please," said Aldred.