When Maggie came into my room next morning, she told me that Dr. Kelly had been sent for.
“The masther was very bad all the night, and it wasn’t daylight when Misther Roche come down and said Mick should go for the docthor.”
I dressed as quickly as I could, and, when I came downstairs, found that Dr. Kelly was already with my uncle. I rang the bell, and, after an unusual delay, Roche answered it.
“You had better ask Dr. Kelly to come in to breakfast,” I said.
“Very well, miss; he’ll be going now in a minute. He’s with the masther in the little study.”
“In the little study?”
“Yes, indeed, miss. At four o’clock this morning he lepped out of his bed, and nothing would do him only to go downstairs; first he was for going away out of the house down to the bog, or the like o’ that, an’ when I was thrying to stop him, he says, ‘Let go,’ says he, ‘Poul-na-coppal is the only place,’ says he; ‘we’ll be late if we don’t go now!’ and I was put to me thrumps to howld him.”
“Did you tell Dr. Kelly all this?”
“Oh, bedad, I did, miss!” said Roche, with modest pride, “and more too. There he is now in the hall. I’ll go tell him you want to spake to him.”
The little doctor’s vulgar authoritative voice and complacent manner inspired me with a certain confidence in him, though what he said about Uncle Dominick was not very reassuring.