“Announce me, please,” said Tarbot.
He left his hat and overcoat in the hall, and a moment later was ushered into Mrs. Pelham’s presence. She was a little woman, with rosy cheeks and bright, dark eyes. She had the eager, affectionate manner of a person whose heart overbalances her mind.
“I am so glad to see you, doctor,” she cried. “Please sit down. Piers has had a very queer fainting fit this afternoon. I do not like the state he is in at all.”
“Has the nurse come?” asked Tarbot.
“She came yesterday. I don’t much like her, and I don’t think the child does either.”
“Oh, she is an excellent nurse,” said Tarbot, frowning; “one of the very best I have on my staff. I’ll go up and have a look at the child.”
Mrs. Pelham took the doctor up-stairs herself. The bedroom occupied by the small baronet was luxuriously furnished in the style best calculated to please a child.
Just beyond it was a dressing-room, but the little baronet slept, as well as played, in his nursery. He was sitting up in bed now, with flushed cheeks. He was a remarkably pretty boy, with soft black hair, eyes dark as night, and a velvety skin of the purest olive. The moment his mother appeared he called out to her in a high, ringing tone,—
“I’m better again, mother. Oh, is that you, Dr. Tarbot? I don’t want any more of your nasty medicines. You needn’t order them for me, for I’m not going to take them.”
He laughed as he announced his determination. The mother ran up to the boy and began to kiss him.