“Eline!” he called in a hushed intense voice, suitable to the hour and the occasion.
“Yes, sir,” pathetically.
“What the he— why are you making such a—such a hullabaloo?”
“Oh, my tooth does ache, sir!” she wailed jerkily.
“Nonsense!” said Mr. Scott, “how can it ache when it is at the dentist’s? Don’t be a baby. Get up and take something, come downstairs, dress yourself decently,” he warned her.
He went down into the dining-room and from a secret cupboard produced a bottle with a boastful label. Into a tumbler he splashed a very generous portion.
Eline came in a flannel dressing-gown and skirt. She looked scarcely human.
“Drink this,” commanded Mr. Stott.
Eline took the glass timidly and examined it.
“I could never drink that, sir,” she said, awe-stricken.