She couldn’t tell; she knew it was somewhere about the White-horse Plains, but she didn’t know more than that.
“Did ’e not say w’en ’e’d be home?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Oh dear!” said Tom, rubbing his long nose in great perplexity. “It’s an ’orrible case o’ sudden and onexpected pison.”
She was sorry for it, but couldn’t help that; and thereupon, bidding him good-morning, shut the door.
Tom’s wits had come to that condition which just precedes “giving it up” as hopeless, when it occurred to him that he was not far from old Mr. Kennedy’s residence; so he stepped into the cariole again and drove thither. On his arrival he threw poor Mrs. Kennedy and Kate into great consternation by his exceedingly graphic, and more than slightly exaggerated, account of what had brought him in search of the doctor. At first Mrs. Kennedy resolved to go up to Fort Garry immediately, but Kate persuaded her to remain at home, by pointing out that she could herself go, and if anything very serious had occurred (which she didn’t believe), Mr. Kennedy could come down for her immediately, while she (Kate) could remain to nurse her brother.
In a few minutes Kate and Tom were seated side by side in the little cariole, driving swiftly up the frozen river; and two hours later the former was seated by her brother’s bedside, watching him as he slept with a look of tender affection and solicitude.
Rousing himself from his slumbers, Charley looked vacantly round the room.
“Have you slept well, darling?” inquired Kate, laying her hand lightly on his forehead.
“Slept—eh! oh yes. I’ve slept. I say, Kate, what a precious bump I came down on my head, to be sure!”