“Call Dawtie; call Dawtie!” he replied.
George rose to go and call her.
“Beware of her!” said the laird, with glazy eyes, “Beware of Dawtie!”
“How?” asked George.
“Beware of her,” he repeated. “If she can get the cup, she will! She would take it from me now, if she dared! She will steal it yet! Call Dawtie; call Dawtie!”
Alexa was in the drawing-room, on the other side of the hall. George went and told her that her father wanted Dawtie.
“I will find her,” she said, and rose, but turned and asked:
“How does he seem now?”
“Rather worse,” George answered.
“Are you going to be with him through the night?”