Chapter Twenty Four.
The Awakening.
“Don’t you be in a flurry, miss,” said Keren-Happuch coolly; “he ain’t so very bad. Here, you’ll soon see.”
She rushed into the bedroom, and returned with a basin, sponge, and towel, which, to her surprise and annoyance, were taken from her hand; and she saw Cornel, with deft manipulation, bathe the cut, examine it, and then take from her pocket a little case, out of which she drew a pair of scissors and a leaf of adhesive plaster. A minute later she had closely clipped away a little of the hair, pressed the cut together, and cleverly strapped it up.
“Hold this handkerchief pressed to it tightly, while I bathe his temples,” said Cornel; and, as the little maid obeyed, she watched with wide open eyes the pulse felt and the temples bathed before a few drops from a stoppered bottle were added to a wine-glass full of water, and gently poured between the insensible man’s lips.
“Lor’, if she ain’t one o’ them female doctors,” thought Keren-Happuch. “Wonder what she’s give him to drink?”
There was a singular look of dislike condensed into a frown on the girl’s brows as she watched Cornel, and a jealous scowl or two as she saw her take Armstrong’s hand and kneel by his side, waiting for some signs of returning animation; but at last it seemed as if the girl could not keep her tongue quiet.
“I say,” she whispered, “are you a doctor, miss?”
“No: my brother is a medical man, though, and I have been often to a hospital and helped him as a nurse.”