“No; I have often treated colds, and I thought this a case, aggravated by that wicked treatment.”

“Have you looked into her mouth?”

“Yes; the skin is frightfully brown and dry.”

He leant towards her, and asked, in an under tone—­

“Did you ever see diphtheria?”

“No!”—­her brow contracting—­“did you?”

“Yes; we had it through all the children of the regiment at Woolwich.”

“You think this is it?”

He asked a few more questions, and his impression was evidently confirmed.

“I must send for Mr. Frampton,” said Rachel, homeopathy succumbing to her terror; but then, with a despairing glance, she beheld all the male part of the establishment handing tea.

“Where does he live?  I’ll send him up.”

“Thank you, oh! thank you.  The house with the rails, under the east cliff.”

He was gone, and Rachel endured the reeling of the lights, and the surges of talk, and the musical performances that seemed to burst the drum of her ear; and, after all, people went away, saying to each other that there was something very much amiss, and that poor dear Mrs. Curtis was very much to blame for not having controlled her daughters.

They departed at last, and Grace, without uttering the terrible word, was explaining to the worn-out mother that little Lovedy was more unwell, and that Captain Keith had kindly offered to fetch the doctor, when the Captain himself returned.

“I am sorry to say that Mr. Frampton is out, not likely to be at home till morning, and his partner is with a bad accident at Avonford.  The best plan will be for me to ride back to Avoncester, and send out Macvicar, our doctor.  He is a kind-hearted man, of much experience in this kind of thing.”

“But you are not going back,” said polite Mrs. Curtis, far from taking in the urgency of the case.  “You were to sleep at Colonel Keith’s.  I could not think of your taking the trouble.”

“I have settled that with the Colonel, thank you.  My dog-cart will be here directly.”

“I can only say, thank you,” said Rachel, earnestly.  “But is there nothing to be done in the meantime?  Do you know the treatment?”

He knew enough to give a few directions, which revealed to poor Mrs. Curtis the character of the disease.

“That horrible new sore throat!  Oh, Rachel, and you have been hanging over her all this time!”

“Indeed,” said Alick Keith, coming to her.  “I think you need not be alarmed.  The complaint seems to me to depend on the air and locality.  I have been often with people who had it.”

“And not caught it?”

“No; though one poor little fellow, our piper’s son, would not try to take food from any one else, and died at last on my knee.  I do not believe it is infectious in that way.”

And hearing his carriage at the door, he shook hands, and hurried off, Mrs. Curtis observing—­