The doctor arrived with unhoped-for promptitude; he had been standing at his door, like others, wondering what the uproar meant.  As soon as he saw the unhappy sufferer he said, in answer to Elizabeth’s mute appeal, “This is serious.”

“It is a fit,” Elizabeth said.

“Yes.  But a fit in the present state of her health means mischief.  You must send at once for Mr. Farfrae.  Where is he?”

“He has driven into the country, sir,” said the parlour-maid; “to some place on the Budmouth Road.  He’s likely to be back soon.”

“Never mind, he must be sent for, in case he should not hurry.”  The doctor returned to the bedside again.  The man was despatched, and they soon heard him clattering out of the yard at the back.

Meanwhile Mr. Benjamin Grower, that prominent burgess of whom mention has been already made, hearing the din of cleavers, tongs, tambourines, kits, crouds, humstrums, serpents, rams’-horns, and other historical kinds of music as he sat indoors in the High Street, had put on his hat and gone out to learn the cause.  He came to the corner above Farfrae’s, and soon guessed the nature of the proceedings; for being a native of the town he had witnessed such rough jests before.  His first move was to search hither and thither for the constables, there were two in the town, shrivelled men whom he ultimately found in hiding up an alley yet more shrivelled than usual, having some not ungrounded fears that they might be roughly handled if seen.

“What can we two poor lammigers do against such a multitude!” expostulated Stubberd, in answer to Mr. Grower’s chiding. “’Tis tempting ’em to commit felo-de-se upon us, and that would be the death of the perpetrator; and we wouldn’t be the cause of a fellow-creature’s death on no account, not we!”

“Get some help, then!  Here, I’ll come with you.  We’ll see what a few words of authority can do.  Quick now; have you got your staves?”

“We didn’t want the folk to notice us as law officers, being so short-handed, sir; so we pushed our Gover’ment staves up this water-pipe.

“Out with ’em, and come along, for Heaven’s sake!  Ah, here’s Mr. Blowbody; that’s lucky.” (Blowbody was the third of the three borough magistrates.)

“Well, what’s the row?” said Blowbody.  “Got their names—­hey?”

“No.  Now,” said Grower to one of the constables, “you go with Mr. Blowbody round by the Old Walk and come up the street; and I’ll go with Stubberd straight forward.  By this plan we shall have ’em between us.  Get their names only:  no attack or interruption.”

Thus they started.  But as Stubberd with Mr. Grower advanced into Corn Street, whence the sounds had proceeded, they were surprised that no procession could be seen.  They passed Farfrae’s, and looked to the end of the street.  The lamp flames waved, the Walk trees soughed, a few loungers stood about with their hands in their pockets.  Everything was as usual.