When the doctor entered Lot Gordon's chamber Margaret Bean followed, tremblingly officious, in his wake, with a bowl and spoon in hand.
“I want to see the doctor alone,” said Lot; and the old woman retreated before his coldly imperious order. “Stay out in the kitchen,” ordered Lot, further, “and don't come through the entry; I shall hear you if you do.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Margaret Bean, and obeyed, nor dared listen at the door, as was her wont, so terrified was she lest Lot could indeed hear and had heard in times past.
The doctor, redolent of herbs and drugs, set his medicine-chest on the floor, and advanced upon Lot, who waved him back with a half-laugh.
“Lord, let's have none of that nonsense this morning,” he said. “Sit down; I want to talk to you.”
The doctor was gray and unshaven and haggard as ever, from a midnight vigil, the crumbs of his hasty breakfast were on his waistcoat; his eyes were bright as steel under heavy, frowning brows.
“Are ye worse? Has it come on again?” he demanded.
“No; sit down.”
The doctor snatched up his medicine-chest with a surly exclamation.
“Where are you going?” asked Lot.