She said:
“Yes—you understand—you’ve known what it’s like—”
She turned suddenly, a questioning look in her eyes:
“Aunt Laura—”
The door opened and red-haired Nurse O’Brien came in.
She said in a sprightly manner:
“Mrs. Welman, here’s Doctor come to see you.”
III
Dr. Lord was a young man of thirty-two. He had sandy hair, a pleasantly ugly freckled face and a remarkably square jaw. His eyes were a keen, piercing light blue.
“Good morning, Mrs. Welman,” he said.
“Good morning, Dr. Lord. This is my niece, Miss Carlisle.”
A very obvious admiration sprang into Dr. Lord’s transparent face. He said, “How do you do?” The hand that Elinor extended to him he took rather gingerly as though he thought he might break it.
Mrs. Welman went on:
“Elinor and my nephew have come down to cheer me up.”
“Splendid!” said Dr. Lord. “Just what you need! It will do you a lot of good, I am sure, Mrs. Welman.”
He was still looking at Elinor with obvious admiration.
Elinor said, moving towards the door:
“Perhaps I shall see you before you go, Dr. Lord?”
“Oh—er—yes, of course.”
She went out, shutting the door behind her. Dr. Lord approached the bed, Nurse O’Brien fluttering behind him.
Mrs. Welman said with a twinkle:
“Going through the usual bag of tricks, Doctor: pulse, respiration, temperature? What humbugs you doctors are!”
Nurse O’Brien said with a sigh:
“Oh, Mrs. Welman. What a thing, now, to be saying to the doctor!”
Dr. Lord said with a twinkle:
“Mrs. Welman sees through me, Nurse! All the same, Mrs. Welman, I’ve got to do my stuff, you know. The trouble with me is I’ve never learnt the right bedside manner.”
“Your bedside manner’s all right. Actually you’re rather proud of it.”
Peter
Lord chuckled and remarked:
“That’s what you say.”