‘I spoke to you last night about getting farther advice,’ he said. ‘Mind, I don’t suppose it’s in the least degree necessary; your child’s recovery is no doubt merely a question of time. These childish fevers must run their course. But I can see that you are unduly anxious. It might be a comfort to you to see another doctor, a man especially experienced in the treatment of children. I knew just such a man—one who has been particularly successful with children; not an eminent man by any means, but one who has worked among the poor, whose heart is in his profession, whose work is really a labour of love. I can speak of him with perfect confidence, for he is my friend, and I know all this to be true. Let me telegraph for him; I am sure that he will come as quickly as an express train can bring him.’ Her eyes brightened a little, and she gave him a look full of gratitude. ‘How good of you to think of this!’ she said. ‘O yes, pray, pray send for him. Such a man as that might save my darling, even if she were in danger, and the doctor here says there is no danger. Pray send for this good man. I am not very rich, but I will gladly pay any fee within my means, and be his debtor for farther payment in the future.’ ‘He will not want payment,’ answered Geoffrey, with a smile. ‘He is my friend, and would make a longer journey than from London here to serve me. Rely upon it, he will be with you before this evening. Good-bye, Mrs. Bertram, and try to be hopeful. If I thought there were a better man in all London than the man I am going to summon, rely upon it I would have that better man.’ He gave her his hand, which she did not refuse; at least, she let her feverish little hand rest in his for one brief delicious moment, perhaps unconsciously. But he felt that he had gained ground since that day in the garden. He had won the right to approach her. He jumped into the first fly he met, told the man to drive his hardest to the railway station—it was before the days of postal telegraph offices—and dispatched his message, paying for both telegram and reply. The message ran thus: ‘_From Geoffrey Hossack, Stillmington, Warwickshire, to Lucius Davoren, 103 Shadrack-road, London._ ‘Come here at once to see a sick child. No time to be lost. Your coming quickly will be the greatest favour you can do me. The patient’s address is 15 Marlow-street, New-town, Stillmington. Answer paid for.’ The telegram handed over to the clerk, he began to speculate upon the probabilities of delay. After all, this telegraphic system, which would have seemed so miraculous to our ancestors, is not rapid enough for the impatience of Young England’s impetuous spirit. It seems a slow business at the best. Science has made the matter swift as light, but clerkly sluggishness and slow-footed messengers clog electricity’s wings, and a message which takes a hundred seconds for its actual transmission from the operator to the dial may not be delivered for a couple of hours.