"Not for any money," said the doctor; "get on that horse, indeed! There'd be another accident, and no one to be of any assistance. I shall be up at the house in a very few minutes; ride on and say I'm coming.--Lord, my dear, fancy such an interruption to our conversation--such a bombshell bursting over the castle we were building in the air!" "The doctor wishes to speak to you, miss, outside master's door," said Mrs. Caddy, in that hissing whisper which servants always assume in a house of sickness. "He didn't say anything about Master Tom, but his face is as white as white, and----" "Thanks, Mrs. Caddy; I'd better go at once;" and Marian left the dining-room, where she had been doing her best to calm her mother's agitation, which expressed itself in sparse tears, and head-shakings, and deep-drawn sighs, and flutterings of her feeble hands, and ascended the stairs. As she gained the landing, the little doctor, who had evidently been on the watch, came out of a bedroom, shutting the door cautiously behind him, and hastening to her, took her hand and led her into the recess of a bay-window, round which was a luxurious ottoman. When they had seated themselves, Marian broke silence. "You have examined him, doctor? You know the worst?" "I say nothing about the worst, my dear, as I just told our old friend; that is not for us to say. Poor boy! he is in a very bad way, there's no disguising that. It's a case of fracture of the skull, with compression of the brain--a very bad case indeed!" "Does he know what has happened? Has he given any explanation of the accident?" "None. He is insensible, and likely to remain so for some time. Now, my dear, you're the handiest person in the house, and the one with your wits most about you. This poor lad will have to be trepanned--ah! you don't understand what that is; how should you?--I mean, will have to be operated upon before he gets any relief. Under the circumstances, I don't choose to take the responsibility of that operation on myself, and, with Mr. Creswell's consent, I've telegraphed to London for one of our first surgeons to come down and operate. He will bring a professional nurse with him, but they cannot arrive until the mail at two in the morning, and as I must go down to the surgery for two or three little matters, and see some of my patients tucked up for the night, I intend leaving you in charge of that room. You have nothing to do but to keep everybody else--except, of course, Mr. Creswell--out of the room. You must not be frightened at Tom's heavy breathing, or any little restlessness he may show. That's all part of the case. Now, my child, be brave, and so good night for the present." "Good night, doctor. Oh, one minute. You said you had telegraphed for a London surgeon. What is his name? "What on earth makes you ask that, you inquisitive puss?" said the old gentleman, with a smile. "Have you any choice among London surgeons? His name is Godby--Godby of St. Vitus!"