“It is Major North’s way too,” she said to herself. “How he would have sneered if he had heard me to-night! I might be that boy’s grandmother, from the way he accepts my scoldings.”
CHAPTER IV.
AGAINST HIS WILL.
“I beg your pardon for disturbing you, but I think you must belong to the British Mission to Ethiopia?”
The speaker was a hot and dusty lady, mounted on a sorry pony, who had halted in front of the hotel at Bab-us-Sahel, the port of Khemistan, in which Sir Dugald Haigh’s party were quartered. Dick North, who had been reclining in a cane chair on the verandah, with a cigar and a wonderfully printed local paper, jumped up when he heard the voice.
“I am a member of the Mission,” he answered. “Can I do anything for you? I am sorry that Sir Dugald Haigh is out, but perhaps you would prefer to wait for him? Won’t you come in out of the sun?”
“Thanks,” said the lady, dismounting nimbly before he could reach her, and giving the bridle to a youthful native groom who had accompanied her, “but I need not trouble Sir Dugald Haigh. Please tell me whether it is true that there is a lady doctor in your party?”
“Yes. Miss Keeling is her name.”
The lady uttered an exclamation of delight.
“Oh, that is just splendid! I must see her at once, please. My name is Guest; she will remember me if you tell her that Nurse Laura is here. I was a probationer at the Women’s Hospital when she was house-surgeon there, and we knew each other well. Please ask her to see me at once: it is a matter of life and death.”
Drawing forward a chair for the lady, Dick departed on his errand, and returned presently with Georgia, who had been resting in her room after a long ride in the morning. Miss Guest jumped up to meet her.