Cornwall (England : County) -- Fiction; Short stories
"This sudden apparition shook me down with a jerk; and I suppose the
sight of me had something of the same effect on the woman, who
staggered to the side of the track, and, plumping down amid her
flounces, beckoned me feebly with her sunshade. I pulled up, and
asked what I could do for her.
"'You're the doctor?' she said slowly, with a tight hold on her
pronunciation.
"'That's so.'
"'From Cornice House?'
"I nodded.
"She nodded back. 'That's so. Oh, dear, dear! _you_ said that.
I can't help it. I'm drunk, and it's no use pretending!'
"She fell to wringing her hands, and the tears began to run from her
bistred eyes.
"'Now, see here, Mrs.--Miss--'
"'Floncemorency.'
"'Miss Florence Montmorency?' I hazarded as a translation.
"'That's so. Formerly of the Haughty Coal.'
"'I beg your pardon? Ah! . . . of the Haute Ecole?'
"'That's so: '_questrienne_.'
"'Well, you'll take my advice, and return home at once and put
yourself to bed.'
"'Don't you worry about me. It's the Bishop you've got to prescribe
for. I allowed I'd reach Cornice House and fetch you down, if it
took my last breath. Pete Stroebel at the drug store told me this
morning that Mr. Hewson had a doctor come to stop with him, so I
started right along.'
"'And how far did you calculate to reach in those shoes?'
"'I didn't calculate at all; I just started along. If the shoes had
hurt, I'd have kicked them off and gone without, or maybe crawled.'
"'Very good,' said I. 'Now, before we go any farther, will you
kindly tell me who the Bishop is?'
"'He's a young man, and he boards with me. See here, mister,' she
went on, pulling herself together and speaking low and earnest, 'he's
good; he's good right through: you've got to make up your mind to
that. And he's powerful sick. But what you've got to lay hold of is
that he's good. The house is No. 67, West fifteenth Street, which
is pretty easy to find, seeing it's the only street in Eucalyptus.
The rest haven't got beyond paper, and old Huz-and-Buz totes them
round in his pocket, which isn't good for their growth.'
"'Won't you take me there?'
"'Not to-day. I guess I've got to sit here till I feel better.
Another thing is, you'll be doing me a kindness if you don't let on
to the Bishop that you found me in this--this state. He never saw me
like this: he's good, I tell you. And he'd be sick and sorry if he
knew. I'm just mad with myself, too; but I swear I never meant to be
like this to-day. I just took a dose to fix me up for the journey;
but ever since I've been holding off from the whisky the least drop
gets into my walk. You didn't happen to notice a spring anywhere
hereabouts, did you? There used to be one that ran right across the
track.'
"'I passed it about a hundred yards back.'
"I dismounted and led her to the spring, where she knelt and bathed
her face in the water, cold from the melting snowfields above.
Then she pulled out a small handkerchief, edged with cheap lace, and
fell to dabbing her eyes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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