Mildred seemed unable to speak, and Mrs. Selby answered for her. “No, doctor, I think mother is better, but—” and the story of the night’s alarm was repeated.
“Dreadful! What a night you two must have passed!” commented Dr. Landreth, holding his wife closer to his heart.
“Who on airth can it be?” exclaimed the woman in the buggy, who had listened to the recital in open-mouthed astonishment, as she spoke leaning down and forward in the effort to look in at the open door, till she seemed in imminent danger of falling.
“I haven’t an idea,” returned Mrs. Selby. “But excuse me, won’t you alight and come in, Mrs. Lightcap? I ought to have asked you before, but hadn’t noticed that you were there.”
“Yes, thank ye, I’ll ’light; I want to peek up in that chimbly; and besides I’ve come to stay all day and as much longer as you need help or nursin’. You’ve nursed my folks and me in many a sick spell, Mrs. Selby, and I’m glad o’ the chance to pay ye back in your own coin,” the woman answered, jumping out and hitching the horse as she spoke.
“It’s very kind—” Mrs. Selby was beginning, but the other interrupted her. “No, ’tain’t nothing o’ the sort! I’d a ben an ungrateful wretch if I hadn’t a clapped on my bonnet and come, the minute the doctor told me you was wantin’ help.”
They hurried in in the wake of Dr. Landreth and Mildred.
Stooping his tall form on the hearth, the doctor put his head into the chimney, took a long look, then withdrawing it, said in low, moved tones, “Yes, he is there, and life seems to be extinct; there is not the slightest sound or movement.”
“And ye can’t so much as give a guess who he is? Just let me look,” said Mrs. Lightcap, thrusting him aside in her eagerness.
The doctor stepped toward Mrs. Selby, and speaking in an undertone. “Keep this from your mother if possible,” he said. “I will see the coroner and tell him how important it is that she should not be disturbed by noise or excitement.”