VERNER’S PRIDE.
BY THE AUTHORESS OF “EAST LYNNE.”
CHAPTER XXIII. JAN’S REMEDY FOR A COLD.
A cold bright day in mid-winter. Luncheon was just over at Deerham Court, and Lady Verner, Decima, and Lucy Tempest had gathered round the fire in the dining-room. Lucy had a cold. She laughed at it; said she was used to colds; but Lady Verner had insisted upon her wrapping herself in a shawl, and not stirring out of the dining-room for the day—which was the warmest room in the house. So there reclined Lucy in state, in an arm-chair with cushions; half laughing at being made into an invalid, half rebelling at it.
Lady Verner sat opposite to her. She wore a rich black silk dress—the mourning for Mrs. Verner—and a white lace cap of the finest guipure. The white gloves on her hands were without a wrinkle, and her curiously fine handkerchief lay on her lap. Lady Verner could indulge her taste for snowy gloves and for delicate handkerchiefs now, untroubled by the thought of the money they cost. The addition to her income, which she had spurned from Stephen Verner, she accepted largely from Lionel. Lionel was liberal as a man and as a son. He would have given the half of his fortune to his mother, and not said “It is a gift.” Deerham Court had its carriage and horses now, and Deerham Court had its additional servants. Lady Verner visited and received company, and the look of care had gone from her face, and the querulousness from her tone.
But it was in Lady Verner’s nature to make a trouble of things; and if she could not do it in a large way, she must do it in a small. To-day, occurred this cold of Lucy’s, and that afforded scope for Lady Verner. She sent for Jan as soon as breakfast was over, in defiance of the laughing protestations of Lucy. But Jan had not made his appearance yet, and Lady Verner waxed wrath.
He was coming in now,—now, as the servants were carrying out the luncheon-tray, entering by his usual mode—the back-door—and nearly knocking over the servant and tray in his haste, as his long legs strode to the dining-room. Lady Verner had left off reproaching Jan with using the servants’ entrance, finding it waste of breath: Jan would have come down the chimney with the sweeps, had it saved him a minute’s time. “Who’s ill?” asked he.
Lady Verner answered the question by a sharp reprimand, touching Jan’s tardiness.
“I can’t be in two places at once,” good humouredly replied Jan. “I have been with one patient since four o’clock this morning, until five minutes ago. Who is it that’s ill?”
Lucy explained her ailments, giving Jan her own view of them: that there was nothing the matter with her but a bit of a cold.
“Law!” contemptuously returned Jan. “If I didn’t think somebody must be dying! Cheese said they’d been after me about six times!”
“If you don’t like to attend Miss Tempest, you can let it alone,” said Lady Verner. “I can send elsewhere.”
“I’ll attend anybody that I’m wanted to attend,” said Jan. “Where d’ye feel the symptoms of the cold?” asked he of Lucy. “In the head or chest?”
“I am beginning to feel them a little here,” replied Lucy, touching her chest.
“Only beginning to feel them, Miss Lucy?”
“Only beginning, Jan.”
“Well then, you just wring out a long strip of rag in cold water, and put it round your neck, letting the ends rest on the chest,” said Jan. “A double piece, from two to three inches broad. It must be covered outside with thin water-proof skin to keep the wet in: you know what I mean: Decima’s got some: oil-skin’s too thick. And get a lot of toast and water, or lemonade; any liquid you like; and sip a drop of it every minute, letting it go down your throat slowly. You’ll soon get rid of your sore chest if you do this; and you’ll have no cough.”
Lady Verner listened to these directions of Jan’s in unqualified amazement. She had been accustomed to the very professional remedies of Dr. West. Decima laughed. “Jan,” said she, “I could fancy an old woman prescribing this, but not a doctor.”
“It’ll cure,” returned Jan. “It will prevent the cough coming on: and prevention’s better than cure. You try it at once, Miss Lucy; and you’ll soon see. You will know then what to do if you catch cold in future.”
“Jan,” interposed Lady Verner, “I consider the very mention of such remedies beneath the dignity of a medical man.”
Jan opened his eyes. “But if they are the best remedies, mother?”
“At any rate, Jan, if this is your fashion of prescribing, you will not fill your pockets,” said Decima.
“I don’t want to fill my pockets by robbing people,” returned plain Jan. “If I know a remedy that costs nothing, why shouldn’t I let my patients have the benefit of it, instead of charging them for drugs that won’t do half the good?”
“Jan,” said Lucy, “if it cost gold I should try it. I have great faith in what you say.”
“All right,” replied Jan. “But it must be done at once, mind. If you let the cold get ahead first, it will not be so efficacious. And now good day to you all, for I must be off to my patients. Good bye, mother.”
Away went Jan. And, amidst much laughter from Lucy, the wet “rag,” Jan’s elegant phrase for it, was put round her neck, and covered up. Lionel came in, and they amused him by reciting Jan’s prescription.
“It is this house which has given her the cold,” grumbled Lady Verner, who invariably laid faults and misfortunes upon something or somebody. “The servants are for ever opening that side door,
