“Prawle,” he said, “will you go to my house and give that to my wife?”
“I’ll take it,” said Geoffrey, eagerly. “I’m going home.”
“You will have to bring something back,” said the doctor.
“All right: I’ll lose no time,” he said, cheerily; and he started off, and had to wait while Mrs Rumsey obtained the bottles from the surgery, sending them and a graduated glass for the doctor to mix himself.
This done, there was the walk back to Gwennas, and then Geoffrey waited for the doctor, who kept coming out for a stroll in the cool starlight, and then returning.
“I’ve been thinking that I ought to send you for Mrs Mullion, Trethick.”
“What! Is she in danger?”
“No; oh, no, poor lass; she’ll be better soon. You are going to wait about, I suppose?”
“Oh, yes,” said Geoffrey; “you may want me to fetch something more, and I’ll wait to walk back with you.”
The doctor went in, and old Prawle came up from below and touched him on the arm.