“Do me a service.”
“Ah!—what is it?”
“Go a journey for me.”
“I will go all round England for you, Mr. Eden,” cried the girl, panting and flushing.
“My writing-desk!—it is to a village sixty miles from this, but you will be there in four hours; in that village lives the man who can cure me, if any one can.”
“What will you take with you?” asked Mrs. Davies, all in a bustle.
“A comb and brush, and a chemise.”
“I'll have them down in a twinkling.”
The note was written.
“Take this to his house, see him, tell him the truth, and bring him with you to-morrow—it will be fifty pounds out of his pocket to leave his patients—but I think he will come. Oh, yes! he will come—for auld lang syne.”