He was in the height of his trouble and perspiring freely when the object of Lucy’s affections seized him roughly by the shoulder and shook him.
“Jem, Jem, wake up, man; wake up!”
The major started up in bed, and the light confused him, but he made out that his brother was there half dressed holding a bell glass flat candlestick over him.
“What’s the matter?”
“Don’t know. Slip on your dressing-gown. Someone ill, I’m afraid.”
“Tut, tut, tut!” ejaculated the major, hurrying on trousers and dressing-gown in prompt military fashion, while his brother explained.
“I was fast asleep and awoke by a cry. A few moments after it came again, and I slipped on some things, got a light, and came out into the corridor.”
“Fancy.”
“No, I’m sure of it. Ready?”
“Nearly.”