At her frantic summons, out from the kitchen rushed the old woman, followed by several of her satellites, all screaming at once to know what was the matter, and wild with astonishment at the sight of a stranger in the garden.
"Quick! quick!" cried Sarah. "Your master has been taken with a fit; come and carry him into the house. One of you run for a doctor."
"Oh, de laws! oh, dear! oh, dear!" resounded on every side; but Sarah directed them with so much energy that the women, aided by an old negro who had been roused by the disturbance, conveyed their master into the house, and laid him upon a bed in one of the lower rooms.
"Where is your mistress?" questioned Sarah.
"Oh, she's gwine out," sobbed the cook; "oh, my poor ole massar, my poor ole massar!"
"Have you sent for the doctor?"
"Yes, young miss, yes; he'll be here in a minit; bress yer pooty face."
Sarah busied herself over the insensible man, applying every remedy that she could remember of having seen her mother use when her grandfather was ill, and really did the very things that ought to have been done.
It was not long before the doctor arrived, bled his patient freely, praised Sarah's presence of mind, and very soon the old gentleman returned to consciousness.
Sarah heard one of the servants exclaim: "Oh, dar's missus! praise de Lord!"