So serious did the doctor consider the case that he stayed with him all night.
A rough-looking stick was this country surgeon, in rough tweed jacket and knickerbockers, but tender-hearted to a degree.
Craig had gone home about ten, somewhat sad-hearted and hopeless. Not, it must be confessed, for his friend’s accident, but Reginald would now be always with Annie, for she had volunteered to nurse him.
But Craig rode over every day to see the wounded man for all that.
“He has a tough and wondrous constitution,” said Dr McRae. “He’ll pull through under my care and Annie’s gentle nursing.”
Craig Nicol winced, but said nothing. Reginald had brought a dog with him, a splendid black Newfoundland, and that dog was near him almost constantly.
Sometimes he would put his paws on the coverlet, and lean his cheek against his master in a most affectionate way. Indeed, this action sometimes brought the tears to Annie’s eyes.
No more gentle or kind nurse could Reginald have had than Annie.
To the guileless simplicity of a child was added all the wisdom of a woman. And she obeyed to the very letter all the instructions the doctor gave her. She was indefatigable. Though Fanny relieved her for hours during the day, Annie did most of the night work.
At first the poor fellow was delirious, raving much about his mother and sisters. With cooling lotions she allayed the fever in his head. Ay, she did more: she prayed for him. Ah! Scots folk are strange in English eyes, but perhaps some of them are saints in God’s.