ll take good care you don't. That's enough, Patrick, don't waste
your strength! I'm going downstairs to telephone, and if Braithey's at
home my car shall bring him round. It's waiting outside."

He disappeared, and the storm burst over Pixie's head, but she bore it
meekly, with a kind of stunned acceptance. _Everything_ seemed going
wrong! The sunny harmony of the last ten days had suddenly changed to
gloom. Pixie's thoughts made a lightning review of those different
days. How perfectly, incredibly happy they had been! Until this moment
she had not fully realised their perfection.

"Ah, now, Pat, stop! Don't worry, boy! It's not my head! ... Wait
till to-morrow and you'll be better than ever, and think of the trouble
it'll give you to apologise. ... It's because we _care_!"

"Wish to goodness you didn't then," cried the impenitent one. However
he might wish to apologise to-morrow, he was in no mood to begin
to-night, but the pain in his head was so acute that by sheer exhaustion
he was forced into silence.

Stephen did not return as had been expected after sending his telephone
message. He preferred, it appeared, to go on the car, and personally
bring back the doctor, and half an hour later the two men entered the
room together. Then ensued the usual tapping and sounding, the enforced
reiteration of "Ah-ah!" the feeling of the pulse, the ignominious
presentation of the tongue. Pat went through the performance with the
air of a martyr at the stake, sank back against the pillow when it was
over, and hunched himself beneath the clothes.

"That's right! That's right! Lie still and rest. We'll soon have you
all right again. Have a little nap if you can, while I give Miss
O'Shaughnessy my instructions in the er--er--"

Doctor Braithey reminded himself in time that there _was_ no second
sitting-room, and concluded grandiloquently--"in the hall!"

They went out into the tiny passage, and Stephen and Pixie waited for
the verdict.

"Well! The right lung is touched. He has taken a chill. Now we must
see what we can do to prevent it from going farther."

He cast an inquiring glance at Pixie.

"D'you know anything about poulticing?"

"Yes, everything! I've helped my sister with her children, and I
brought the things..."

"That's well! Poultice him then, a fresh one every two hours. Here!
You understand, in this position," he tapped himself in illustration.
"I'll send in medicines, and we'll se