"Mr. Baring," she began at once, as she stepped over the threshold, "I think Hatty ought to see a doctor. She is very weak and feverish, and her cough is certainly worse."
"She has been so often like this—in fact, nearly all last winter she was a prisoner. I am afraid you will not persuade her to see a doctor."
"May I send for one on my own acconnt, and take all the responsibility?"
"No; I could not allow that." A flush rose to his face as he spoke. "If you consider it necessary, I will send for one; but I am afraid she will be annoyed. She can't bear doctors."
"Never mind that. You can put all the blame on me. I am sure she ought to have advice."
"She shall have it." He questioned her truthful eyes. "She only complained to me of feeling tired. What did she say to you?"
"It is not what she said; it is her look, her feverish hands, and that constant cough. You know of a good doctor?"
"Yes; there is a good American here, in whom I have every confidence. I will go to him at once. Thank you for coming, Miss Shaw. I am afraid you think me very churlish. My sister says I am; but I appreciate your kindness in coming to me all the more, as it must have been disagreeable to you."
"I did not think whether it was agreeable or disagreeable," she replied, with something like irritability; while Baring instantly wished he could recall his foolish speech. (Hatty would have twitted him with it, and justly.)
