night and hastened away. She had suffered much from tooth-ache or face-ache the last day or two. Mrs. Pepperfly and the widow sat on at their supper, until disturbed by the departure of Mr. Carlton. He had not remained long.
Of course tales never lose by carrying, especially if they are bad ones; and that you all know. The current report of the accident in South Wennock that night was precisely the one mentioned by Mrs. Gould—that Mr. Carlton’s carriage was smashed to pieces and his horse and man were killed. On the following morning, however, things were found to be looking a little brighter: the groom, under his master’s treatment, was progressing quickly towards recovery, the horse’s sprain was going on well, and the carriage had gone to the coachmaker’s to be repaired.
Mr. Carlton had to make his visits on foot that day. Towards the middle of it, in passing through High Street, he encountered Mr. Stephen Grey. The two had never met professionally, but they knew each other sufficiently well to nod in passing. Mr. John Grey had more than once been in attendance in conjunction with Mr. Carlton, but it happened that Mr. Stephen had not. Each stopped simultaneously now.
As Mr. Stephen Grey had remarked casually to Judith the previous Friday, there was plenty of room for Mr. Carlton in South Wennock as well as for themselves. Indeed, the death of their brother Robert, combined with the increasing size of the place, had caused the practice to be more than John and Stephen Grey and their assistant could manage, therefore they felt not a shade of jealousy of the new surgeon, who had come to set up amidst them. Honourable, fair-dealing, right-minded men were the brothers Grey, entirely above rankling spite and petty meanness.
Mr. Stephen Grey had halted to speak of Mrs. Crane. He had been happy to attend her, he said, and would now resign her into the hands of Mr. Carlton.
“She is doing quite well,” remarked Mr. Carlton.
“Quite so,” said Mr. Stephen Grey, who had taken the remark as a question. “I have not long come from her. If you will step down there with me know, I will explain matters, and———"
“Would you oblige me by not giving up charge until to-night or to-morrow morning?” interrupted Mr. Carlton. “What with the confusion caused by last night’s accident, and the patients who have grown impatient at my absence and are exacting double attention, I am so busy to-day that I don’t know which way to turn. Before I take Mrs.—Mrs. What’s the name?”
“Crane.”
“Mrs. Crane. It is not a difficult name to remember, and yet it seems to slip from me. Before I take her from your hands I should wish to meet you there, just for explanation, and I here really not time for it now. When I reached home last evening and read the note she had sent to me on Friday last, I went to call, but it was late, she seemed drowsy, and I did not undertake charge. Either to-night or tomorrow morning, Mr. Grey, I shall have the pleasure of meeting you.”
“Whichever may be convenient to you,” returned Mr. Stephen. “It’s quite the same to me.”
“To-night, then, at seven,” said Mr. Carlton. “If I find that I cannot by any possibility get there”—he paused in consideration—“why then, it must be left until to-morrow morning, at ten. But I hope I shall be there this evening. She seems young, this lady.”
“Quite young. She says she’s two-and-twenty, but I should not have thought her so much. How did you manage to meet with that unpleasant accident?”
“I don’t know any more than you know, who were not present. I fancied the horse shied; but it all happened so swiftly I could not be sure. If he did shy, it was very slightly, and I saw nothing that could have induced it; but why he should have fallen, or over what, is entirely unexplainable. It was on that smooth bit of road; the only smooth bit there is, midway between here and Great Wennock. Evan is doing well, and as to the home, he is very slightly injured.”
“The report in the town was, that you were all done for, all killed together; you, the groom, horse, phaeton, and all.”
Mr. Carlton laughed. It was difficult to resist the good-humour of Mr. Stephen Grey. And so they parted, each walking a different way.
At seven precisely that evening Stephen Grey was at Mrs. Crane’s, waiting for Mr. Carlton. Mrs. Crane was flushed, and appeared to be a little feverish.
“There has been too much chattering going on,” he observed to Judith, who was sitting in the front room.
“She will talk, sir,” answered Judith. “Feeling well, as she does, I suppose it’s natural.”
“But not expedient,” he returned. “Where’s the nurse?”
“She was here not two minutes before you came in, sir. Perhaps she’s gone down to get something.”
Mr. Stephen rang the bell, and the nurse was