“Perhaps she is right, and he will be better without medical advice,” he said, with a pleasant smile upon his countenance. “Why should I interfere? That is where some people make such a mistake: they will dig up a plant to look at its roots. I prefer letting a well-growing plant alone. Yes, things are looking up. Now for my genial baronet.”
He walked out into the ball, and took his hat, just as there was a ring at the gate bell.
“Who’s this?” he said; and he walked into the dining-room and nearly closed the door, but not quite.
The next minute there were steps in the hall, the door was opened, and the curate’s bluff voice rang through the place in an inquiry after the doctor.
“He’s very poorly, sir,” said Mrs Milt, in a low and cautious voice. “I don’t really know what to make of him.”
“I do,” said Salis. “He wants rest and change, Mrs Milt.”
“Yes, sir; I think that’s it, sir.”
“I wish I could get him away. I will.”
“Will you?” said Cousin Thompson softly.
“Here, I’ll go up and see him. In his room, I suppose?”