The child hurried on with her, sobbing, and she was soon on the stairs beside the unconscious John.
Mary Anne looked with amazement at the cupboard and the open box. Then she laid the old man on the floor, her gentle face working with the effort to remember what the doctor had once told her of the best way of dealing with persons in a faint. She got water, and she sent Arthur to a neighbour for brandy.
"Where's your mother, child?" she asked, as she despatched him.
"Don' know," repeated the boy, stupidly.
"Oh, for goodness' sake, she's never at Dawson's again!" groaned Mary
Anne to herself; "she wor there last night, an' the night afore that.
And her mother's brother lyin' like this in 'er house!"
He was so long in coming round that her ignorance began to fear the worst. But, just as she was telling the eldest girl to put on her hat and jacket and run for the doctor, poor John revived.
He struggled to a sitting posture, looked wildly at her and at the box. As his eye caught the two sovereigns still lying at the bottom, he gave a cry of rage, and got upon his feet with a mighty effort.
"Where's Bessie, I tell yer? Where's the huzzy gone? I'll have the law on 'er! I'll make 'er give it up—by the Lord I will!"
"John, what is it? John, my dear!" cried Mary Anne, supporting him, and terrified lest he should pitch headlong down the stairs.
"Yo' 'elp me down," he said violently. "We'll find 'er—we'll wring it out ov 'er—the mean, thievin' vagabond! Changin' suverins, 'as she? We'll soon know about that—yo' 'elp me down, I tell yer."