“I’ll eat later,” he mumbled. “Leave me alone, now,”—and the heavy lids closed again over the eyes under which dark circles of pain testified to hours of suffering.
“Very well.” Doctor Roberts spoke more crisply. “Miss Ward will be here to look after you. You must do what she says. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”
His remark met with no response, and picking up his bag Roberts started from the room. At the door he paused and motioned to Miss Ward to follow him. Stopping long enough to arrange Abbott’s pillow in a more comfortable position, the nurse went into the hall, only to find that Doctor Roberts was halfway down the staircase. With a doubtful look behind her, Miss Ward ran lightly down into the lower hall which, lighted only by oil lamps, was long and rambling and used as a living room. Doctor Roberts walked over to a table and put down his bag.
“I am glad that you are here, Miss Ward,” he began, courteously. “I feared the storm would detain you. You have not nursed for me before?”—with an inquisitive glance at the pretty woman before him.
“No, Doctor.” Miss Ward’s tapering fingers pressed out a crease in her starched gown. “This is my first case since my arrival in Washington.”
“Oh! You are a graduate nurse?”
“Yes. I trained in New York.” Her hazel eyes met his steadily. “They told me at the hospital of the urgency of this case and I took a taxi out here.”
“Quite right. Add all your expenses to your bill,” directed Roberts. “Paul Abbott has ample means. He should be in a hospital.”
“But his condition, doctor.”
Roberts nodded. “That is out of the question,” he agreed, “now. Had his caretaker sent for me in time I would have had Mr. Abbott moved from this God-forsaken location to the city. As it is”—he pulled himself up short—“we must do the best we can ten miles from civilization.” His smile vanished as quickly as it had come. “I am no lover of the country in the dead of winter. What time did you get here?”