“That’s well,” he said, smiling at me such a sweet sympathetic smile as he felt my pulse with his finger. “Confidence is the first great requisite in a patient: it’s half the battle. You’re not seriously hurt, I hope, but you’re very much shaken. Whether you like it or not, you’ll have to stop here now for some days at least, till you’re thoroughly recovered.”
I’m ashamed to write it down; but I was really pleased to hear it. Nothing would have induced me to go voluntarily to their house with the intention of stopping there—for they were friends of Dr. Ivor’s. But when you’re carried on a stretcher to the nearest convenient house, you’re not responsible for your own actions. And they were both so nice and kind, it was a pleasure to be near them. So I was almost thankful for that horrid accident, which had cut the Gordian knot of my perplexity as to a house to lodge in.
It was a fortnight before I was well enough to get out of bed and lie comfortably on the sofa. All that time Jack and Elsie tended me with unsparing devotion. Elsie had a little bed made up in my room; and Jack came to see me two or three times a day, and sat for whole hours with me. It was so nice he was a doctor! A doctor, you know, isn’t a man—in some ways. And it soothed me so to have him sitting there with Elsie by my bedside.
They were “Jack” and “Elsie” to me, to their faces, before three days were out; and I was plain “Una” to them: it sounded so sweet and sisterly. Elsie slipped it out the second morning as naturally as could be.
“Una’d like a cup of tea, Jack;” then as red as fire all at once, she corrected herself, and added, “I mean, Miss Callingham.”
“Oh, do call me Una!” I cried; “it’s so much nicer and more natural.... But how did you come to know my name was Una at all?” For she slipped it out as glibly as if she’d always called me so.
“Why, everybody knows that.” Elsie answered, amused. “The whole world speaks of you always as Una Callingham. You forget you’re a celebrity. Doctors have read memoirs about you at Medical Congresses. You’ve been discussed in every paper in Europe and America.”
I paused and sighed. This was very humiliating. It was unpleasant to rank in the public mind somewhere between Constance Kent and Laura Bridgman. But I had to put up with it.
“Very well,” I said, with a deep breath, “if those I don’t care for call me so behind my back, let me at least have the pleasure of hearing myself called so by those I love, like you, Elsie.”
She leant over me and kissed my forehead with a burst of genuine delight.