Great commotion was there in Gilroyd Hall. Miss Perfect’s seizure did not pass away like a common swoon. Away went Tom for Doctor Drake, and Vi and the servants got poor Aunt Dinah, cold, and breathing heavily, and still insensible, to her bed.
Doctor Drake arrived quickly, and came up to her room, with his great coat buttoned up to his chin, looking rather stern, in a reserved but friendly sort of fuss.
“Hey—yes, yes—there it is. How long ago did this happen, my dear?”
“Not quite half an hour—in the drawing-room. Oh, Doctor Drake, is it anything very bad?” answered Violet.
“Well, my dear, it’s serious—but I hope it will be all right; it’s a smart little attack of apoplexy—upon my word it is. There was no convulsion—that’s right. It was very well he came when he did—just caught me at the door. Open the window and door. Mrs. Dobbs, give me cold water. Have you a scissors? We’ll cut the strings of her dress and staylace. One of you run down and bring up a kettleful of hot water. Her feet are a little cold. Get up her head a little more. We’ll get her sitting up, if you please, in this armchair here. We’ll bathe her feet, and you’ll see she’ll do very well, presently. It’s not a case for bleeding; and bring up mustard. I think you’ll see she’ll come round in a little time.”
And so on the doctor talked and directed, and actively treated his patient; and in a little time consciousness returned, and there was time at last, to think of William Maubray.
“Shall we telegraph a message to London?” asked Violet.
“Not a bit; she’s going on as nicely as possible. He’d only be in the way here, and it would frighten her. She’s doing capitally; and she may never have a return, if she just takes care. She must take care, you know, and I’ll give you full directions how to treat her.”
And so he did. Miss Vi being accurate and intelligent, and rising with the occasion, so that Doctor Drake that evening celebrated Miss Darkwell to his friend Dignum, of the Golden Posts, as a trump and a brick, and the nicest little creature he ever saw.
Mr. Vane Trevor, who had called at Gilroyd that morning, but found all things in confusion and panic, called again in the evening, and had the pleasure of an interview with Winnie Dobbs; but he could not see Miss Darkwell. The young lady had given peremptory directions respecting all visitors, and would not leave Miss Perfect’s room.