“Another time, Green called up Frank, and said he was sure thieves were not only in the house this time, but they were murdering the old cook; he could hear her groans. ‘Run, then!’ said Frank; ‘my dear sir, don’t let her be murdered!’ “‘No,’ said Green, ‘do you run up, Frank. You’re much less than I am. If they fired at me, they could not possibly miss me. There, run up, there’s a good fellow. And here’s a pistol for you. Shoot the first rogue you see, without mercy.’ “He thrust a pistol into Frank’s trembling hand, and pushed him up-stairs. This time it appeared really awful. At the next floor he distinctly heard frightful groans from the cook’s chamber. The door stood partly open, and, by the dim light from a window beyond her bed, he could see something moving to and fro near the bed. ‘They are murdering the old woman, and no mistake!’ said Frank to himself; and in a voice so strange with fear that it doubly frightened him to hear it, he cried out, ‘Who are you, there?’ “A shriek from the cook made the blood run through him with an icy shiver, and a start. “‘What is it?’ cried Frank. “‘O Lor’, sir,’ said the cook, in a tone of terror, ‘it is only me, sir! I have such a nasty pain in my—my—stomach, and I’ve been downstairs for a little peppermint-water.’ “‘But what are you doing out of bed now, with a pain in your stomach? That will only make it worse,’ said Frank. “‘Oh, Mr. Frank!’ said the cook, ‘I am only holding on to the bed-post a little, to help me to abide the pain.’ “‘I’ll fetch you something,’ said Frank; but, first of all, he shouted downstairs to his master. ‘Come hither, directly, master, for I think it’s all up with the cook.’ Whereupon Green, as he expected, banged to his chamber-door, and locked it inside, to Frank’s infinite delight. Presently Frank came up with a good dose of compound tincture of cardamoms for the cook, which soon set her all right; and he tumbled into his bed again, to laugh himself asleep.” “What an arrant coward,” said Mr. Woodburn again, “is that Green!” “When Frank was nearly out of his time,” Thorsby went on, “Green’s brother—a doctor in a country place in Yorkshire—wanted to go to the sea-side for a month. And then, the country people being too busy with their harvests to be sick, he got this valiant Mr. Green of ours to send Frank Leroy to look after any casual patient that should turn up. Frank enjoyed it wonderfully. It was a very fine country, and he had a good horse to ride, and it was quite a treat for him to go cantering about amongst the jolly farmers there.