As he had fully expected, she went into violent hysterics. She cried, she screamed, then her voice subsided to a sort of low, dismal wailing, only to break out afresh with renewed shrieks.
“Perhaps it’s better that she should do this, than to control herself,” the Doctor said; “she’ll soon exhaust herself at this rate, and may in that way become more tractable. I wish we could get her to bed.”
“We can,” responded his wife, promptly. “I’ll look after that. Give a look at Eleanor, Herbert.”
The harassed doctor turned his attention to his daughter, who was controlling herself, but who was trembling piteously.
“Good girl,” said her father, taking her in his arms. “Buck up, Nell, dear. Dad’s got a whole lot on his shoulders, and my, how it will help if you don’t keel over!”
“I won’t,” and Eleanor tried to smile.
Claire Blackwood approached the pair.
“Doctor Varian,” she said, “suppose I take your daughter home with me for the night,—or longer, if she’ll stay. It might relieve you and your wife of a little care, and I’ll be good to her, I promise you. And, if I may, I’d like to go now. I can’t be of any service here, can I? And as Miss Eleanor can’t either, what do you think of our going now?”
“A very good idea, Mrs Blackwood,” and the doctor’s face showed grateful appreciation. “Take one of the young men with you, and leave the other here to help me.”
“We’ll take John Clark,” Claire decided, “and Ted Landon will, I know, be glad to stand by you.”