“Does he seem frightened?” asked Lady Mildred.
“No,” the doctor replied. “I don’t think his nerves have suffered. He is still sleepy and confused, and of course he feels sore and aching. But he can remember nothing very distinctly, I fancy.”
“I will go up and see him,” said Lady Mildred. “It must be past dinner-time, Claudia. This affair has made the servants forget everything.”
The doctor took his leave, promising to look in again the next morning. Lady Mildred went up to the chintz room and Claudia ran after her.
“Mayn’t I come in and see him too, aunt,” she said; “I’d like to see him looking better. He did look so dreadful when they first brought him in,” and she gave a little shudder.
Jerry was looking very far from dreadful by this time; he was half-sitting up in bed, with more colour than usual on his face, his eyes very bright and blue. Lady Mildred’s face changed as she looked at him.
“I hope you are feeling better, my dear,” she said quietly. “The doctor is sure you will be quite well to-morrow.”
“Yes, thank you,” said Jerry. “I’m nearly quite well now, I think, except that I’m aching rather. If you please,” and he hesitated, “you don’t think I could go home to-night? I don’t know what o’clock it is—it isn’t the middle of the night, is it? Oh,” as Claudia just then came forward, “I—”
“This is my niece,” said Lady Mildred. “She was anxious to know how you were.”
Gervais looked up at Claudia, and a glance of understanding passed like lightning between them.