She nodded. "Of course I'm going to keep it. If I don't, how can I find out what he wants?" She rose from her chair and came forward to where Colin was standing. "I—I'm awfully grateful for what you've done," she said shyly, "and I can't tell you what a comfort it is to know that I've got someone who's ready to help me." She paused. "All the same," she added, "I'm not in the least frightened of Major Fenton. I've had a lot of practice in looking after myself."
CHAPTER SEVEN
With an inward sigh of relief Colin opened the door of the surgery, and beckoned to the solitary old woman who was still sitting grimly in the corner of the waiting room. She was the thirty-fourth patient he had interviewed that morning, and the prospect of a well-earned lunch with Nancy was beginning to dangle pleasantly in front of his exhausted spirits.
The old woman entered the surgery, and, after placing a bulky string bag upon his consulting table, deposited herself in an armchair alongside.
Colin took his own seat and smiled at her encouragingly.
"Well, mother," he said, "what's the matter?"
The patient folded her hands. "I've bin pizened," she said. "That's wot's the matter with me, young man. I've bin pizened."
Colin sat back and nodded gravely. "When did this happen?" he inquired.
"Ha!" said the lady, rather bitterly. "That's the very pint I'm comin' to. Are you a pertickler friend o' Doctor Hashton's?"