Peter Trawl | Page 9

supper?" asked Nancy, who had been preparing it.
Mother made no reply.
"Don't take on so, missus," said Nancy, coming up to her and putting her hand affectionately on her shoulder.
"Bless me, you're as wet as muck. I've put Peter and Mary to bed, and you must just go too, or you'll be having the rheumatics and I don't know what. Do go, missus, now do go."
In vain Nancy pleaded, and was still endeavouring to persuade mother to take off her wet garments, when I at last fell asleep. When I awoke in the morning I saw Nancy alone bustling about the room. I soon jumped into my clothes. My first question was for father.
"He's not yet come back, Peter," she answered. "But maybe he will before long, for the wind has fallen, and if he put into Ryde he'd have waited till now to come across."
"Where's mother?" I next asked, not seeing her.
"Hush, Peter, don't speak loud," she said in a low tone. "She's been in a sad taking all night, but she's quiet now, and we mustn't waken her."
On hearing this I crept about as silent as a mouse till Mary got up, and then we sat looking at each other without speaking a word, wondering what was going to happen, while Nancy lit the fire and got breakfast ready. At last we heard mother call to Nancy to come to her, not knowing that Mary and I were on foot.
"I must get up and go and look after my good man," she cried out, in a voice strangely unlike her own. "Just help me, Nancy, will you? What can have come over me? I feel very curious."
She tried to rise, but could not, and after making several attempts, sank back on her bed with a groan. Mary and I now ran into her room.
"What's the matter, mother dear?" asked Mary, in a tone of alarm.
She gazed at us strangely, and groaned again.
"Missus is, I fear, taken very bad," said Nancy. "I must run for a doctor, or she'll be getting worse. I'm sure I don't know what to do; I wish I did. Oh dear! Oh dear!"
"Let me go," I said, eagerly. "I know where he lives and you stay and take care of mother. I can run faster than you can in and out among the people in the streets."
Nancy agreed, and I set off.
CHAPTER THREE.
A SAD CHAPTER IN MY LIFE.
As I ran for the doctor I felt that I was engaged in a matter of life and death, for I had never seen mother ill before. In my anxiety for her I almost forgot all about father. On I rushed, dodging in and out among the workmen going to their daily toil--there were not many other persons out at that early hour. Two or three times I heard the cry of "Stop thief!" uttered by some small urchins for mischiefs sake, and once an old watchman, who had overslept himself in his box, suddenly starting out attempted to seize hold of me, fancying that he was about to capture a burglar, but I slipped away, leaving him sprawling in the dust and attempting to spring his rattle, and I ran on at redoubled speed, soon getting out of his sight round a corner. At last I reached Dr Rolt's house and rang the surgery bell as hard as I could pull. It was some time before the door was opened by a sleepy maid-servant, who had evidently just hurried on her clothes.
"Mother wants the doctor very badly," I exclaimed. "Ask him, please, to come at once."
"The doctor can't come. He's away from home, in London," answered the girl. "You'd better run on to Dr Hunt's. Maybe he'll attend on your mother."
I asked where Dr Hunt lived. She told me. His house was some way off, but I found it at last. Again I had to wait for the door to be opened, when, greatly to my disappointment, the maid told me that Dr Hunt had been out all night and might not be at home for an hour or more.
"Oh dear! Oh dear! Who then can I get to see poor mother?" I cried out, bursting into tears.
"There's Mr Jones, the apothecary, at the end of the next street. He'll go to your mother, no doubt," said the maid. "Don't cry, my boy. Run on now; the first turning to the left. You'll see the red and green globes in his window."
Without stopping to hear more, off I set again. Mr Jones was in his dispensary, giving directions to his assistant. I told him my errand.
"I'll go presently," he answered. "What's the number?"
Our house had no number, and I could not manage to explain its position clearly enough for his comprehension.
"Then I'll stay, sir, and show you