“Very well. Anything you like,” said Prudence desperately, for she felt she could stand no more questioning, and gladly made her escape to her own room under cover of Mrs. Wilcox’s directions to the cook on behalf of the supposed invalid.
Mary, the housemaid, presently brought up a tray and tried the handle of Augusta’s door, only to find it locked. Prudence peeped out of her apartment and bade the girl lay the tray on the mat, promising to take it in presently. At this, Mary, who did not like the Misses Semaphore, flounced angrily downstairs, muttering, “Some people is so mystearyous.”
CHAPTER XI.
THE MEDICAL LADY INTERVENES.
Miss Prudence did not appear at afternoon tea, so the symptoms of her sister, her refusal, or, at least, disinclination to call in a doctor, her extraordinary confusion and contradictory statements, as detailed by Mrs. Wilcox, were canvassed with much freedom by the boarders present. Mrs. Wilcox discreetly abstained from mentioning her suspicions, or using the ugly word “infection,” but she privately requested the medical lady to visit the invalid, and make a truthful report as to her condition.
The medical lady was a woman who had no weakness about her. She always recommended drastic remedies, and applied them if possible. She professed to enjoy her cold tub in the iciest weather. Nothing would persuade her that anyone who paled or fainted at the sight of blood or of ghastly accidents, or corpses, or took no delight in anatomical specimens in bottles, was not an affected creature. Mice she herself disliked, but that, she argued, was different. She administered physic with pleasure, and the nastier it was, and the more the ridiculous patient disliked it, the more she insisted on giving it as prescribed. She liked to take command of a sick-room as an admiral of his quarter deck, putting the invalid’s relatives to one side and making them feel they were intruders. As she assured them that responsibility for the death of the person afflicted would lie at their door if they resisted, they were generally afraid to turn her out, while the invalid was unable. She inspired Miss Prudence with terror, which expressed itself in slavish deference and humility, for, conscious of her own weakness, she felt, and with justice, that the medical lady despised her.
The younger Miss Semaphore was sitting solitary in her own room by the window, absorbed in anxious thought. The door of communication with her sister’s apartment stood open, so that she commanded a view of the bed and of the infant Augusta. Suddenly she started to her feet. Someone had knocked sharply at Augusta’s door, and immediately turned the handle. Finding it resisted efforts to open it, the voice of the medical lady was heard in the corridor, saying sweetly, “My dear Miss Semaphore, will you not let me in? I have come to enquire how you are.”
Augusta heard, and, forgetful of her voiceless condition, evidently made a desperate effort to summon Prudence, for she gave a feeble whimper.
“Hush! Do be quiet,” cried Prudence in a frightened, undertone. Then opening her own door, she looked out into the corridor. The medical lady was discovered kneeling on the mat and trying to peep through the keyhole. She started into an erect position with marvellous celerity.
“Do you want anything, Miss Lord,” asked Prudence timidly, yet with something of resentment in her tone.
“Oh! your dear sister,” said Miss Lord, slightly embarrassed, I just wanted to see her, but somehow I cannot open the door. I thought that possibly she might be glad of my services.”