"If you're no better in the morning, you'd better 'ave a shillingsworth of Baldock."
If anything, Mavis was worse on the morrow. She had passed a restless night, which had been troubled with unpleasantly vivid dreams; moreover, the first post had brought no letter for her.
"Got a shillin'?" asked Mrs Gowler after she had made some pretence of examining her.
"What for?" asked Mavis.
"Doctor's fee. You'll be bad if you don't see 'im."
"Is he clever?" asked the patient.
"Clever! 'E be that clever, it drops orf 'im."
When, with the patient's consent, Mrs Gowler set out to fetch the doctor, she, also at the girl's request, sent a telegram to Mrs Scatchard, asking her to send on at once any letters that may have come for Mavis. She was sustained by a hope that Perigal may have written to her former address.
"Got yer shillin' ready?" asked Mrs Gowler, an hour or so later. "'E'll be up in a minute."
Two minutes later, Mrs Gowler threw the door wide open to admit Dr Baldock. Mavis saw a short, gross-looking, middle-aged man, who was dressed in a rusty frock-coat; he carried an old bowler hat and two odd left-hand gloves. Mrs Gowler detailed Mavis's symptoms, the while Dr Baldock stood stockstill with his eyes closed, as if intently listening to the nurse's words. When she had finished, the doctor caught hold of Mavis's wrist; at the same time, he fumbled for his watch in his waistcoat pocket; not finding it, he dropped her arm and asked her to put out her tongue. After examining this, and asking her a few questions, he told her to keep quiet; also, that he would look in again during the evening to see how she was getting on.