She gave him a bright, grateful look through her tears, and then hurriedly shrank away.
“Hah! that’s better,” he said to himself, as he went on with his simple meal. “A cup of tea, and a little sunshine, what a difference they do make in a man’s sensations. Humph! past six. No bed for me till to-night,” he exclaimed, as he glanced at his watch; and rising, he went softly upstairs once more, to find that his patient was still sleeping, with Judith watching by his pillow.
Oldroyd just nodded to her, and made a motion with one finger that she should come to his side.
“I’ll ride over in the afternoon,” he whispered; and then he went quietly down, said “good-morning” to the woman waiting, and with the sensation upon him that the night’s work did not seem so horrible now that the sun had risen, he stepped out.
Volume Two—Chapter Eight.
Why the Slugs Ate Lucy’s Mushrooms.
Three men, one of whom was the last night’s messenger, Caleb Kent, a stranger to Oldroyd, were lounging about by the cottage gate as the doctor stepped out, and their looks asked the question they longed to have answered.
“I think he’ll get over it, my men,” said Oldroyd. “It’s a narrow escape for him, though, if he does pull through.”