"I quite understand," she said to Wallion, who had probably already given her instructions. "I'll do what I can." Her kindly eyes rested upon Tom, and she curtsied; that was all the introduction. Then they all went into the smoke-room.
The girl had not stirred. Wallion pointed towards the white figure and said: "There's your patient, Mrs. Toby."
The old dame was already bending over the couch, and her deft fingers at once rearranged the cushion and the girl's clothes, which had got untidy. In a gentle, motherly way she crooned over her: "Such a poor little bird! Would any one believe that two big, stupid men hadn't even the sense to relieve her of her hat!"
The two men, like awkward schoolboys, stood and heard her remarks in silence; she removed the girl's small hat and handed it to Tom. "Now then, go and hang it up," she said, seeing the young man standing irresolute with his hands full. Having examined the bandage and felt the girl's pulse, she said: "The child is feverish. Please bring in my luggage, Mr. Wallion, and you, Mr. Murner, make haste and put a saucepanful of water on the gas-stove to boil."
She looked round and went into the bedroom, where she at once made herself at home. She took clean sheets out of a cupboard, and at one fell swoop turned out Murner's dressing-gown, slippers, smoking-jacket and shaving tools—in fact all his personal belongings—which she deposited in the smoke-room.
"I ought really to turn you out also, but I'll let you stay," she said, laughing, but hustling him out of the apartment. "I am mistress here now."
Tom ventured to say: "Can't I help you?"
"Rubbish!" answered Mrs. Toby, as she lifted the girl from the couch and carried her into the bedroom, shutting the door after her.
Wallion had settled himself comfortably in the study, and with an amused smile he said to Tom: "Mind you don't get in Mrs. Toby's way, she was born to rule."
They had a good smoke, and could hear at intervals sounds of Mrs. Toby's industry and energy.