The Yacht Club | Page 5

raking the gravel
walk near the piazza where Nellie was laboring to keep cool. As we
have hinted before, and as Nellie and Don John had several times
repeated, the day was intensely hot. The sun where the man worked
was absolutely scorching, and the hired man had experienced a
sun-stroke. Captain Patterdale and his visitors bore him to his room in
the L, and Don John ran for the doctor, who appeared in less than ten
minutes. The visitors all did what they could, Mr. Laud Cavendish
behaving very well. Michael's wife and other friends soon arrived, and
there was nothing more for Laud to do. He went down stairs, and,
finding Nellie in the hall, he tried to comfort her; for she was very
much concerned for poor Michael.
"Do you think he will die, Mr. Cavendish?" asked she, almost as much
moved as though the poor man had been her father.

"O, no! I think he will recover. These Irishmen have thick heads, and
they don't die so easily of sun-stroke; for that's what the doctor says it
is," replied Laud, knowingly.
Nellie thought, if this was a true view of coup de soleil, Laud would
never die of it. She thought this; but she was not so impolite as to say it.
She asked him no more questions; for she saw Don John approaching
through the dining-room.
"Good afternoon, Miss Patterdale," said Laud, with a bow and a
flourish, as he retired towards the library, where he had left his hat.
In a few moments more, the rattle of the wagon, with which he
delivered goods to the customers, was heard as he drove off. Don John
came into the hall, and Nellie asked him ever so many questions about
the condition of Michael, and what the doctor said about him; all of
which the young man answered to the best of his ability.
"Do you think he will die, Don John?" she asked.
"I am sure I can't tell," replied Donald; "I hope not."
"Michael is real good, and I am so sorry for him!" added Nellie.
But Michael is hardly a personage in our story, and we do not purpose
to enter into the diagnosis of his case. He has our sympathies on the
merit of his sufferings alone, and quite as much for Nellie's sake; for it
was tender, and gentle, and kind in her to feel so much for a poor Irish
laborer. While she and Donald were talking about the case, Mr.
Hasbrook came down stairs, and passed through the hall into the library,
where he, also, had left his hat. In a few moments more the rattle of his
wagon was heard, as he drove off, indignant and disgusted at the
indifference of the nabob in refusing to take an interest in his brilliant
enterprise. He was angry with himself for having paid his note before
he had enlisted the payee in his cause.
"How is he, father?" asked Nellie, as Captain Patterdale entered the
hall.

"The doctor thinks he sees some favorable symptoms."
"Will he die?"
"The doctor thinks he will get over it. But he wants some ice, and I
must get it for him."
"I suppose you will not go in the Sea Foam now?" asked Donald.
"No; it is impossible," replied the captain, as he passed into the
dining-room to the refrigerator.
The father was like the daughter; and though he was a millionnaire, or
a demi-millionnaire--we don't know which, for we were never allowed
to look over his taxable valuation--though he was a nabob, he took
right hold, and worked with his own hands for the comfort and the
recovery of the sufferer. It was creditable to his heart that he did so, and
we never grudge such a man his "pile," especially when he has earned
it by his own labor, or made it in honorable, legitimate business. The
captain went up stairs again with a large dish of ice, to assist the doctor
in the treatment of his patient.
Donald staid in the hall, talking with Miss Nellie, as long as he thought
it proper to do so, though not as long as he desired, and then entered the
library where he, also, had left his hat. Perhaps it was a singular
coincidence that all three of the visitors had left their hats in that room;
but then it was not proper for them to sit with their hats on in the
presence of such a magnate as Captain Patterdale, and no decent man
would stop for a hat when a person had fallen in a fit.
Captain Patterdale's hat was still there; and, unluckily, there was
something else belonging to him which was not there.
CHAPTER II.
ABOUT THE TIN BOX.
Captain Patterdale worked