“Give him a little brandy,” said Mr. May.
The boy was sent for the cab, James swallowed a spoonful of brandy. He came to himself irritably.
“What? What,” he said. “I won’t have all this fuss. Go on with the performance, there’s no need to bother about me.” His eye was wild.
“You must go home, father,” said Alvina.
“Leave me alone! Will you leave me alone! Hectored by women all my life—hectored by women—first one, then another. I won’t stand it—I won’t stand it—” He looked at Alvina with a look of frenzy as he lapsed again, fell with his head on his hands on his ticket-board. Alvina looked at Mr. May.
“We must get him home,” she said. She covered him up with a coat, and sat by him. The performance went on without music. At last the cab came. James, unconscious, was driven up to Woodhouse. He had to be carried indoors. Alvina hurried ahead to make a light in the dark passage.
“Father’s ill!” she announced to Miss Pinnegar.
“Didn’t I say so!” said Miss Pinnegar, starting from her chair.
The two women went out to meet the cab-man, who had James in his arms.
“Can you manage?” cried Alvina, showing a light.