“Miss Hamblyn has hurt her wrist. Can you get me something to bandage it with—a towel that I can tear into strips, or that sort of thing?” roared the doctor, at the top of his voice.
Mrs. Trip shook her head with a worried air. “I can hear that you are making a great noise; but with all that hair over your face, I can’t hear what you say.”
“Was any one ever in such a plight?” cried the doctor, thoroughly exasperated. “A patient who can’t talk, and a nurse—save the mark!—who can’t hear!”
Again there was the flicker of a smile on Nell’s pain-wrung face; but the doctor did not stay to see it. He had sprung to the door, and was shouting for the man who had brought Mrs. Trip in.
“Here I am, doctor,” said Jim, who had been propping his back against the wall of the depot, and thinking of his supper—a meal that appeared to be very much in the future still.
“Whatever did you mean by bringing that poor old woman in here? I can’t make her hear anyhow, and I want bandages, splints, and several other things,” said the doctor, testily, for the situation was beginning to get on his nerves.
“I can talk to her, and without making much noise about it, either. Shall I come in, doctor?” asked Jim, with alacrity, for anything was better than hanging round with nothing to do, save to think of the supper he could not have.
“Yes, come along, and be quick about it,” said Dr. Russell, striding back to his patient.
Jim followed, and, repeating the words as the doctor spoke them, succeeded in conveying to Mrs. Trip a clear idea of what was wanted of her.
“I understand now. I will go at once and get the things you require,” she said, turning to the doctor, and speaking with gentle dignity.