“You should say quite well, Allie dear,” urged Marjorie, in a whisper.
“Yes, I may say quite well. Her father wished us to come and see you before going home. Or rather, he wished you to see the child. But your time is precious.”
“Where are you staying? At the old place with Mrs Robb? Well, I will come round and see you this evening. I have a good many questions to ask. You were not thinking of leaving to-day?”
No, they were to remain a day to rest, and some one was to meet them when they left the mail-coach to take them home. The doctor asked a question or two and let them go, but his eyes followed them with interest till they passed round the corner out of sight.
When he came to see them in the evening, he found Marjorie sleeping on the sofa, while Allison sat by her side with her work in her hand. It happened well, for the doctor had some questions to ask which could be answered all the more clearly and exactly, that the child need not be considered in the matter. They spoke softly, not to disturb her, and in answer to the doctor’s questions Allison told briefly and directly all that he wished to know. Indeed, he could not but be surprised at the fulness and the clearness of the account which she gave, of all that the doctor had done. The minutest details of treatment were given; and sometimes the reason, and the result, almost as fully and effectively as they were written down, in a letter which had been sent him by Dr Thorne. To this letter he referred for a moment, and as he folded it up, he said:
“The child fell into good hands. Dr Thorne is a skilful doctor and a wise man. That is well seen in his works and his words.”
“Yes,” said Allison. “You are right there.”
She had spoken very quietly and gravely up to this time. Now the colour came into her cheeks, and her eyes shone as she went on.
“I could never tell you all his goodness. At first he seemed just to wish to please his friend, Mrs Esselmont. I doubt whether he had much hope of helping the child at first. And then he took up the case in full earnest, for the sake of science, or just for the pleasure of seeing what wonderful things skill and patience could do for help and healing. But in a while, it was not just a case with him. He soon came to love her dearly. And no wonder he loved the gentle little creature, ay patient and cheerful and making the best of everything, even when they hurt her, or wearied her, with this thing or that, as whiles they had to do. Not a child in a thousand would have borne all she has come through, to have health and strength at last. And not a doctor in a thousand could have brought her through, I hope, sir, you will excuse my saying so much,” said Allison, pausing suddenly, as she caught the look with which Doctor Fleming was regarding her.
“Oh! yes. I understand well.” And then he opened his letter and read a line or two.