"To-night, I think. I hope so."
"My dear, it's only a chill," Ena said with comforting cheerfulness. "You'll be all right in a day or two. You've been in a draught, perhaps."
"Ah! but my head! It seems as though it must burst. At times I can't think. All my senses seem blurred."
"Did you tell the doctor that?"
"Yes. And it seemed to puzzle him more than ever. I hope I'm not going to have a bad illness."
"Of course not," laughed Ena. "You'll be better in a day or so. Remain quiet, and I'll run in to-morrow morning to see how you are. If you're worse, tell them to ring me up. I'm just going round to the Davidsons. They will be most distressed to hear of your sudden illness."
The widow of Carsphairn turned over on her pillow and moaned slightly. Her face was flushed, and it was evident to Ena that the last words she had uttered the sick woman had not understood.
So she took her leave, and on descending the stairs to the wide hall, again encountered the proprietor's wife.
"My friend Mrs. Morrison seems very unwell," said Ena. "I can't make it out at all. I do hope the doctor will discover what is the matter with her."
"Doctor Tressider is my own doctor," replied the woman. "He'll be here again before dinner time, and I hope he won't find anything really very wrong."