Clear and determined rang out the mistress’s voice—­mother and mistress—­in this, her first assertion of both her rights.  Phillis drew back astonished, and then, recovering herself, darted after the retreating boy.  But it was too late; he had already gained the staircase.  It was steep, dark, twisted, very unsafe for children; still, in his fear, Arthur plunged down it.  In a minute there was heard a cry and a heavy fall.

Fierce-tempered woman as she was, Phillis had a heart.  She rushed down after the child, but he turned screaming from her, and it was his stepmother who lifted him up and carried him into her own room.

Christian, young as she was, had had necessarily much experience with children.  She soothed the boy, and felt that no limbs were broken; indeed, he complained of nothing, but he turned whiter and whiter, and shrank from the slightest touch.

“Something is certainly wrong with him.  We must send for the doctor.  Whom do you have ordinarily?”

The question was put to Phillis, who, her fury all gone, stood behind the sofa almost as pale as the poor child.  She answered humbly, and named Dr. Anstruther, whom Christian well knew by report; an old man, who for forty years had been the depository of the sicknesses and the sorrows of half Avonsbridge.

“Go, then, tell your master I think Barker ought to be sent for him at once; and say to Dr. Grey—­only don’t frighten him, for it may be a mere trifle after all—­that I am afraid he will have to dine out without me today.  Go quick, Phillis; there is no time to lose.”  For the little face was sinking back paler and paler, and there was an occasional faint moan.

Almost for the first time since her entrance into the Grey family, Phillis, against her will, actually obeyed orders and slipped away so hastily that she stumbled over Letitia, and gave her a good box on the ear; however, the little girl did not cry, but gathered herself up, as if quite used to such treatment, and crept over to the sofa.

“Will Atty die, do you think?” she whispered in much curiosity—­only curiosity there was not a tear in her eyes.  “Because then he would never thump me any more.”

Christian’s very soul recoiled, and then melted into the deepest pity.  What sort of bringing up could it have been which had resulted in feelings like these?

She took no notice of what was said, but merely desired the little girl to bring pillows and a footstool, so that she could hold Arthur as easily as possible till the doctor came.  And then she bade her take off the diamond bracelets and the hanging lace, and told her where to put all this finery away, which Letitia accomplished with aptitude and neatness.

“There, that will do.  Thank you, my dear.  You are a tidy little girl.  Will you come and give me a kiss.”

Letitia obeyed, though with some hesitation, and then came and stood by her step-mother, watching her intently.  At last she said,