The Right Stuff: Some Episodes in the Career of a North BritonHay, Ian
General
The Right Stuff: Some Episodes in the Career of a North Briton
Hay, Ian
Great Britain -- Fiction
The doctor--a dour and deliberate Scot--declined to be positive, but
"doubted" it might be perityphlitis. "Appendicitis is a more fashionable
term," he added. The child had rallied, but was very ill, and nothing
more could be done at present except keep her warm and afford relief by
means of poultices and fomentations until the malady should take a
definite turn for the better or the worse.
"In either case we shall know what to do then," he said; "but for the
present the bairn must just fight her own battle. Has she good health,
as a rule?"
Yes, thank God! she had. Physically she was frail enough, but she
possessed a tough little constitution. After I had taken a peep into the
room where the poor child, a vision of tumbled hair and wide bright
eyes, lay moaning and tossing, I left Kitty and Dolly and the doctor to
do what they could for her, and went downstairs to take counsel with my
friends.
Now that the first shock was past, my head was clear again, and my
course lay plain before me. Downstairs I found Robin, Champion, and Cash
silently taking supper.
"Now, gentlemen," I said, when I had answered Robin's anxious
inquiries--I believe he loved the child almost as much as I did--"this
misfortune has come at a bad time; but one thing is quite plain, and
that is that I must go through with the election. I quite see that I am
not my own master at present."
Cash looked immensely relieved. Evidently he had been afraid that I
would throw up the sponge. Robin and Champion nodded a grave assent, and
the latter said--
"You are right, Adrian. It's the only thing to do."
"That's true," said Cash. "I am sure you have our deepest sympathy, Mr
Inglethwaite, but we can't possibly let you off on any account."
It was not a very happy way of putting it, but Cash was an election
agent first and a man afterwards.
"It was bad enough your running away from the meeting to-night," he
continued, in tones which he tried vainly to keep from sounding
reproachful. "They'd have torn the benches up if Mr Fordyce hadn't let
'em have it straight. I'm afraid it will cost us votes to-morrow."
All this grated a good deal. I could hear Robin begin to breathe through
his nose, and I knew that sign. I broke in--
"What did you say to them, Robin?"
"Say? I don't really know. I assured them that you must have some good
reason for leaving in such a hurry, and persuaded them to keep quiet for
a bit in case you came back. We put up a few more speakers, but the
people got more and more out of hand; and finally, after about five
minutes of Dubberley, they grew so riotous that we ended the meeting."
"They had every excuse," said I. "They considered themselves defrauded."
"So they were," said Cash.
"Of course, if they had _known_," said Champion, "they would have gone
home like lambs."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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