"Please go," she commanded.
The girl was struck into a hopeless humility.
"I will not trouble him again," she pleaded.
"I myself shall see to that."
Mrs. Paragon spoke calmly, and did not stir. Peter lay on the bed safely in her shadow.
The girl looked her farewell at him and passed out.
The specialist from London arrived before noon. He at once took a cheerful view. After listening to the local doctor's account of Peter's night, and examining the patient himself, he relieved Mrs. Paragon of her fears.
"What's the boy been doing?" he asked, after deciding there was nothing to keep him in Worcestershire. "This might well be mistaken for a touch of the sun," he said, smiling at the local man, "but it's not quite so simple. It looks as if he'd been trying to put himself straight with things, and not quite succeeded. He's suffering from acute mental excitement, but he's a healthy youngster and his temperature's falling. He won't talk any more."
"There's a thing that rather puzzles me, doctor," Mrs. Paragon hesitated.