Mary Gray | Page 4

herself came down the gravel path.
Over her head was a little shawl of old lace; it was caught by a
seed-pearl brooch with an amethyst centre. She was wearing a quilted
red silk petticoat and a bunched sacque of black flowered silk. She had
magnificent dark eyes and white hair. Under it her peaked little face
was the colour of old ivory. She was calling to her dog, "Fifine, Fifine,
where can you be?"
A respectable-looking elderly maid came hurrying after her.
"I've looked everywhere, my lady, and I cannot find the little thing,"
she said in a frightened voice.
Meanwhile, the doctor had got out of the carriage and had taken Fifine
gently from Mary's lap. Now that Mary was coming to herself she
began to discover that the doctor was young and kind-looking, but
more careworn than his youth warranted. He opened the garden gate
and went up to Lady Anne.
"Is this your little dog, madam?" he asked.

"My Fifine, my darling!" cried Lady Anne, embracing the trembling bit
of wool. "You don't know what she is to me, sir. My little
grandson"--the imperious old voice shook--"loved the dog. She was his
pet. The child is dead. You understand----"
"Perfectly," said the doctor. "I, too--I know what loss is. The little dog
strayed. She was found in the High Road. I am very glad to restore her
to you; but pray do not thank me. There is a young girl in my carriage
at the gate. She picked up your dog from under the wheels of a tramcar,
and broke her arm, I fear, in doing it. I am on my way to the hospital,
the House of Mercy, where I am doing work for a friend who is on
holiday. I am taking her with me so that I may set the arm where I have
all the appliances."
"She saved my Fifine? Heroic child! Let me thank her."
The old lady clutched her recovered treasure to her breast with fervour,
then handed the dog over to the maid.
"Take me to see Fifine's preserver," she said in a commanding voice.
Mary was almost swooning with the pain of her arm. She heard Lady
Anne's praises as though from a long distance off.
"Stay, doctor," the old lady said; "I cannot have her jolted over the
paving-stones of the city to the Mercy. Bring her in here. We need not
detain you very long. We can procure splints and bandages, all you
require, from a chemist's shop. There is one just round the corner. What,
do you say, child? They will be frightened about you at home! I shall
send word. Be quiet now; you must let us do everything for you."
So the doctor assisted Mary into the old house behind the trees. Lady
Anne walked the other side of her, pretending to assist Mary and really
imagining that she did.
The splints and the bandages were on, and Mary had borne the pain
well.

"I'm afraid I must go," said the doctor, looking at his watch. "I am half
an hour behind my time. And where am I to visit my patient?"
"Where but here?" said Lady Anne with decision. "It is now half-past
eleven. I have lunch at half-past one. Could you return to lunch, Dr.--ah,
Dr. Carruthers. You are Dr. Carruthers, are you not? You took the big
house at the corner of Magnolia Road a year ago?"
"Yes, I am Dr. Carruthers; and I shall be very pleased to return to lunch,
Lady Anne. I don't think the little dog is any the worse for her
experience."
His face was flushed as he stood with his hat in his hand, bowing and
smiling. If only Lady Anne Hamilton would take him up! That big
house at the corner of Magnolia Road had been a daring bid for fortune.
So had the neat, single brougham, hired from a livery-stable. So had
been the three smart maids. But so far Fortune had not favoured him.
He was one of fifty or so waiters on Fortune. When people were ill in
the smart suburban neighbourhood they liked to be attended by Dr.
Pownall, who always drove a pair of hundred guinea horses. None of
your hired broughams for them.
"You are paying too big a rent for a young man," said Lady Anne.
"You can't have made it or anything like made it. Pownall grows
careless. The last time I sent for him he kept me two hours waiting.
When I had him to Stewart, my maid, he was in a hurry to be gone.
Pownall has too much to do--too much by half."
Her eyes rested thoughtfully on the agitated Dr. Carruthers.
"You shall tell me all about it when you come back to