"Yes, child, yes," answered the doctor.
The bell downstairs kept on ringing at intervals. Effie stood trembling on the landing; she felt positively sure that something dreadful must have happened.
"May I go down stairs and say you are coming, father?" she called again through the key-hole.
"Yes, I wish you would. Say I will be downstairs in a minute."
Effie ran off; she took the chain off the heavy hall door and threw it open.
"Is Dr. Staunton in?" asked the Squire. He stared at Effie's white trembling face. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair in disorder; he looked like a man who is half distracted.
"Yes," said Effie, in as soothing a voice as she could assume; "my father will be down in a minute."
Harvey took off his cap.
"You are Miss Staunton, I presume? Pray ask your father to be as quick as possible. My little girl is ill—very ill. We want a doctor to come to The Grange without a moment's delay."
"All right, Squire; here I am," said the hearty voice of Dr. Staunton on the stairs.