"I want you to fetch a doctor. Find one and bring him here as soon as you can. We won't quarrel about your fare."
"I am not afraid of that," he replied, muttering to himself as he climbed up to his box, "but I am afraid it is an undertaker rather than a doctor you will be wanting soon."
He was not absent more than half an hour, but in that time Dolly had arranged matters somewhat to her mind.
She discovered coals in the cellar, and a few pieces of wood in the kitchen-grate, and so managed to light a fire in the sick-room. She carried the chairs, upholstered in damask, and other items of drawing-room furniture into the front room, and substituted in their place articles from the upper rooms, which proved that Dolly had no intention of moving her husband to the first floor for some time to come.
From the contents of a travelling-bag, which having been taken straight out to Mrs. Werner's carriage, had escaped Mr. Meadows' scrutiny, she set out the dressing-table with a few toilet necessaries, and thus it came to pass that when the doctor arrived he found the house inhabited not merely by human beings, but by that subtle essence of womanhood which may be felt but never described.
Already the house was a home, and this man who entered so many houses which were not homes did involuntarily homage to her achievement.
With a quiet tread he walked to the side of his patient, and stooping down over him felt his pulse, pulled up his eyelids, drew down the coverings, and laid his hand on his heart, then placed his own cool palm on the sick man's forehead. Then leaning his elbow on the mantelpiece, he proceeded to question Dolly.
"How long has he been ill?"
"Several weeks. I cannot now remember how many," she answered, making a movement as if to leave the room.