"Pretty well, ma'am," answered the nurse, but with an awful look of insincerity, under which the old lady's heart sank down and down, as if it had foundered.
"One word to Dr. Grimshaw," she whispered, with white lips.
"You can't, ma'am," murmured the nurse, sternly, and about to shut the door in her face.
"Wait, wait," whispered the voice of kind old Doctor Grimshaw, and he came into the next room to Miss Sheckleton, closing the door after him.
"Oh, doctor!" she gasped.
"Well, Miss Sheckleton, I hope she'll do very well; I've just given her something—a slight stimulant—and I've every confidence everything will be well. Don't make yourself uneasy; it is not going on badly."
"Oh, Doctor Grimshaw, shall I send for him? He'd never forgive me; and I promised her, darling Margaret, to send."
"Don't send—on no account yet. Don't bring him here—he's better away. I'll tell you when to send."
The doctor opened the door.
"Still quiet?"