“Do you feel well enough?” said Ethel anxiously.
“Oh, yes. I can walk now, if he wants—I mean if he doesn’t mind me holding on to his arm. I feel as if I was goin’ to be quite all right soon. I’m nearly all right now.”
The three of them walked slowly up the drive to the Brown’s house, William leaning heavily on the young man’s arm. Mrs. Brown saw them from the window and ran to the door.
“Oh, dear!” she said. “You’ve run over him on your motor-cycle. I knew you’d run over somebody soon. I said when I saw you passing on it yesterday——”
Ethel interrupted indignantly.
“Why, Mother, Mr. French has been so kind. I can’t think what I’d have done without him. William was taken ill and couldn’t walk, and Mr. French has carried him all the way from the other end of the road, on his back.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry! How very kind of you, Mr. French. Do come in and stay to lunch. William, go upstairs to bed at once and I’ll ring up Dr. Ware.”
“No,” said William firmly. “Don’t bother poor Dr. Ware. I’m all right now. Honest I am. He’d be mad to come and find me all right.”
“Of course you must see a doctor.”
“No, I mustn’t. You don’t understand. It wasn’t that kind of not wellness. A doctor couldn’t of done me no good. I jus’—jus’ came over queer,” he ended, remembering a phrase he had heard used recently by the charwoman.