“Yes,” he said. “I have come on purpose. But so many dolls are ill just now that I must be getting away soon. It’s quite a bad time for dolls, especially—oddly enough—French ones.”
“Mine is French,” Christina said, growing really interested.
“Ah, how very curious!” he answered. “And now for the pulse,” and he drew out a large gold watch.
Mrs. Tiverton was looking on with tears in her eyes. Christina had not taken this quiet interest in anything or kept so still in bed for many hours. Not even the sleeping draught had had any effect.
The Miss Bannisters’ brother held Joan Shoesmith’s tiny wrist and looked very grave. “Dear, dear!” he said, “I ought to have been sent for before, and then I could have cured her here in your arms. As it is, I must take her to the light. Won’t you have that nice jelly while I am treating Miss ——? Let me see, what was the name?”
“Joan,” Christina said: “Joan Shoesmith.”
“Ah, yes—Miss Shoesmith. By the time you have finished the jelly I ought to have finished my visit.” So saying he rose and carried Joan Shoesmith to the window seat behind the curtains, while Mrs. Tiverton gave Christina the jelly. Christina took it, nurse said afterwards, like a lamb—though I never saw a lamb take jelly.
Meanwhile, the Miss Bannisters’ brother had taken some tools and a tube of seccotine from his pocket, and he had lifted up Joan Shoesmith’s hair, cut a hole in her head, and was busily readjusting the machinery of her eyes. It was all done in five minutes, just as Christina was eating the last mouthful. “There,” he said, returning to the bedside, “that’s all right. I think our patient can see now as well as ever.”