"Noel, I want you!" he said, rather sharply. "Duncan says——" but here he stopped in sudden surprise as Althea's tall figure rose from the couch.
"Mr. Ward," she said, quietly, "Waveney was out, so I opened your telegram, and I have come to see if there is anything I can do for Mollie. My cousin, Lord—I mean Mr. Ingram, has brought me." Then Everard, with rather a sad smile, held out his hand to the young man.
"You are both very kind," he said, simply, "but there is nothing you can do for the dear child. Mollie is very ill, and Dr. Duncan wishes her to have a good nurse at once. I am going to send Noel off to the Institution. He has given me the address—it is diphtheria, and her throat is in a dreadful state, and there is no time to be lost."
"Let me go," returned Moritz, earnestly. "I will take a hansom and be there in no time. Mr. Ward, I shall esteem it as a favour and a mark of true friendship if you will send me instead of Noel." But before Everard could reply to this urgent request, Althea's gentle voice interposed.
"Mr. Ward, please listen to me a moment. I know what this illness means—I have had it myself—Mollie will need two nurses; there would be no one to take care of her by day while the nurse rests, and any neglect would be an awful risk. Please let Moritz go and settle the business. There need only be one to-night, but the day-nurse must relieve her to-morrow morning. Let him have the address, and Noel can go with him; and then you must let me go up and see Mollie." And then Everard, in a dazed fashion, held out a folded piece of paper.
"Two nurses! I shall be in the workhouse," they heard him mutter. But no one took any notice.
"Althea, you are a trump," whispered Moritz, as she followed him into the passage. "Tell me anything she needs, and I will get it. Two nurses!—she shall have a dozen nurses. If the doctor approves, we will have a second opinion; we will have the great throat doctor, Sir Hindley Richmond, down." But what more Moritz would have said in that eager, sibilant whisper, was never known, for Althea gave him an impatient little push.
"Go—go; there is no use in talking. I shall not leave until the nurse arrives." And then she went back into the studio.
She had forgotten her nervousness now, her reluctance to enter Everard's house; her face glowed with kindly, womanly sympathy, as she approached him.
"I am so sorry for you," she said, gently; "and I am sorry for dear Mollie, too, for it is such a painful complaint. But with good nursing I hope she will soon be well. Is Dr. Duncan a clever man?"