Thou must run to him; for thou hast stayed so long that going will
scarce serve the turn.--SHAKESPEARE.
Captain Montgomery did _not_ come the next week, nor the week after; and
what is more, the _Duck Dorleens_, as his sister called the ship in
which he had taken passage, was never heard of from that time. She
sailed duly on the 5th of April, as they learned from the papers; but
whatever became of her she never reached port. It remained a doubt
whether Captain Montgomery had actually gone in her; and Ellen had many
weeks of anxious watching, first for himself, and then for news of him
in case he were still in France. None ever came. Anxiety gradually faded
into uncertainty; and by midsummer no doubt of the truth remained in
any mind. If Captain Montgomery had been alive, he would certainly have
written, if not before, on learning the fate of the vessel in which he
had told his friends to expect him home.
Ellen rather felt that she was an orphan than that she had lost her
father. She had never learned to love him, he had never given her much
cause. Comparatively a small portion of her life had been passed in his
society, and she looked back to it as the least agreeable of all; and it
had not been possible for her to expect with pleasure his return to
America and visit to Thirlwall; she dreaded it. Life had nothing now
worse for her than a separation from Alice and John Humphreys; she
feared her father might take her away and put her in some dreadful
boarding-school, or carry her about the world wherever he went, a
wretched wanderer from everything good and pleasant. The knowledge of
his death had less pain for her than the removal of this fear brought
relief.
Ellen felt sometimes, soberly and sadly, that she was thrown upon the
wide world now. To all intents and purposes so she had been a year and
three-quarters before; but it was something to have a father and mother
living even on the other side of the world. Now, Miss Fortune was her
sole guardian and owner. However, she could hardly realise that, with
Alice and John so near at hand. Without reasoning much about it, she
felt tolerably secure that they would take care of her interests, and
make good their claim to interfere if ever need were.
Ellen and her little horse grew more and more fond of each other. This
friendship, no doubt, was a comfort to the Brownie; but to his mistress
it made a large part of the pleasure of her everyday life. To visit him
was her delight at all hours, early and late; and it is to the Brownie's
credit that he always seemed as glad to see her as she was to see him.
At any time Ellen's voice would bring him from the far end of the meadow
where he was allowed to run. He would come trotting up at her call, and
stand to have her scratch his forehead or, pat him and talk to him; and
though the Brownie could not answer her speeches, he certainly seemed to
hear them with pleasure. Then, throwing up his head, he would bound off,
take a turn in the field, and come back again to stand as still as a
lamb as long as she stayed there herself. Now and then, when she had a
little more time, she would cross the fence and take a walk with him;
and there, with his nose just at her elbow, wherever she went the
Brownie went after her. After a while there was no need that she should
call him; if he saw or heard her at a distance it was enough; he would
come running up directly. Ellen loved him dearly.
She gave him more proof of it than words and caresses. Many were the
apples and scraps of bread hoarded up for him; and if these failed,
Ellen sometimes took him a little salt to show that he was not
forgotten. There were not, certainly, many scraps left at Miss Fortune's
table; nor apples to be had at home for such a purpose, except what she
gathered up from the poor ones that were left under the trees for the
hogs; but Ellen had other sources of supply. Once she had begged from
Jenny Hitchcock a waste bit that she was going to throw away; Jenny
found what she wanted to do with it, and after that many a basket of
apples and many a piece of cold short-cake was set by for her. Margery,
too, remembered the Brownie when disposing of her odds and ends;
likewise did Mrs. Van Brunt; so that among them all Ellen seldom wanted
something to give him. Mr. Marshman did not know what happiness he was
bestowing when he sent her that little horse. Many, many were the hours
of enjoyment she had upon his back. Ellen went nowhere but upon the
Brownie. Alice made her a riding-dress of dark gingham; and it was the
admiration of the country to see her trotting or cantering by, all
alone, and always looking happy. Ellen soon found that if the Brownie
was to do her much good she must learn to saddle and bridle him herself.
This was very awkward at first, but there was no help for it. Mr. Van
Brunt showed her how to manage, and after a while it became quite easy.
She used to call the Brownie to the bar-place, put the bridle on, and
let him out; and then he would stand motionless before her while she
fastened the saddle on; looking round sometimes as if to make sure that
it was she herself, and giving a little kind of satisfied neigh when he
saw that it was. Ellen's heart began to dance as soon as she felt him
moving under her; and once off and away on the docile and spirited
little animal, over the roads, through the lanes, up and down the hills,
her horse her only companion, but having the most perfect understanding
with him, both Ellen and the Brownie cast care to the winds. "I do
believe," said Mr. Van Brunt, "that critter would a _leetle_ rather have
Ellen on his back than not." He was the Brownie's next best friend. Miss
Fortune never said anything to him or of him.
Ellen, however, reaped a reward for her faithful steadiness to duty
while her aunt was ill. Things were never after that as they had been
before. She was looked on with a different eye. To be sure, Miss Fortune
tasked her as much as ever, spoke as sharply, was as ready to scold if
anything went wrong; all that was just as it used to be, but beneath all
that Ellen felt with great satisfaction that she was trusted and
believed. She was no longer an interloper, in everybody's way; she was
not watched and suspected; her aunt treated her as one of the family and
a person to be depended on. It was a very great comfort to little
Ellen's life. Miss Fortune even owned that "she believed she was an
honest child and meant to do right," a great deal from her; Miss Fortune
was never over forward to give any one the praise of _honesty_. Ellen
now went out and came in without feeling she was an alien. And though
her aunt was always bent on keeping herself and everybody else at work,
she did not now show any particular desire for breaking off Ellen from
her studies; and was generally willing, when the work was pretty well
done up, that she should saddle the Brownie and be off to Alice or Mrs.
Vawse.
Though Ellen was happy, it was a sober kind of happiness; the sun
shining behind a cloud. And if others thought her so, it was not because
she laughed loudly or wore a merry face.
"I can't help but think," said Mrs. Van Brunt, "that that child has
something more to make her happy than what she gets in this world."
There was a quilting party gathered that afternoon at Mrs. Van Brunt's
house.
"There is no doubt of that, neighbour," said Mrs. Vawse; "nobody ever
found enough here to make him happy yet."
"Well, I don't want to see a prettier girl than that," said Mrs.
Lowndes; "you'll never catch her, working at home or riding along on
that handsome little critter of her'n, that she ha'n't a pleasant look
and a smile for you, and as pretty behaved as can be. I never see her
look sorrowful but once."
"Ain't that a pretty horse?" said Mimy Lawson.
"_I've_ seen her look sorrowful though," said Sarah Lowndes; "I've been
up at the house when Miss Fortune was hustling everybody round, and as
sharp as vinegar, and you'd think it would take Job's patience to stand
it; and for all there wouldn't be a bit of crossness in that child's
face, she'd go round, and not say a word that wasn't just so; you'd ha'
thought her bread was all spread with honey; and everybody knows it
ain't. I don't see how she could do it, for my part. I know _I_
couldn't."
"Ah, neighbour," said Mrs. Vawse, "Ellen looks higher than to please her
aunt; she tries to please her God; and one can bear people's words or
looks when one is pleasing Him. She is a dear child!"
"And there's 'Brahm," said Mrs. Van Brunt, "he thinks the hull world of
her. I never see him take so to any one. There ain't an airthly thing he
wouldn't do to please her. If she was his own child I've no idee he
could set her up more than he does."
"Very well!" said Nancy, coming up, "good reason! Ellen don't set _him_
up any, does she? I wish you'd just seen her once, the time when Miss
Fortune was abed, the way she'd look out for him! Mr. Van Brunt's as
good as at home in that house, sure enough; whoever's downstairs."
"Bless her dear little heart!" said his mother.
"A good name is better than precious ointment."
August had come, and John was daily expected home. One morning Miss
Fortune was in the lower kitchen, up to the elbows in making a rich fall
cheese; Ellen was busy upstairs, when her aunt shouted to her to "come
and see what was all that splashing and crashing in the garden." Ellen
ran out.
"Oh, Aunt Fortune," said she, "Timothy has broken down the fence and got
in."
"Timothy!" said Miss Fortune, "what Timothy?"
"Why, Timothy, the near ox," said Ellen laughing; "he has knocked down
the fence over there where it was low, you know."
"The near ox!" said Miss Fortune, "I wish he warn't quite so near this
time. Mercy! he'll be at the corn and over everything. Run and drive him
into the barn-yard, can't you?"
But Ellen stood still and shook her head. "He wouldn't stir for me," she
said; "and besides I am as afraid of that ox as can be. If it was Clover
I wouldn't mind!"
"But he'll have every bit of the corn eaten up in five minutes! Where's
Mr. Van Brunt?"
"I heard him say he was going home till noon," said Ellen.
"And Sam Larkens is gone to mill--and Johnny Low is laid up with the
shakes. Very careless of Mr. Van Brunt!" said Miss Fortune, drawing her
arms out of the cheese-tub, wringing off the whey, "I wish he'd mind his
own oxen. There was no business to be a low place in the fence! Well,
come along! you ain't afraid with me, I suppose?"
Ellen followed, at a respectful distance. Miss Fortune, however, feared
the face of neither man nor beast; she pulled up a bean poll, and made
such a show of fight that Timothy, after looking at her a little, fairly
turned tail, and marched out of the breach he had made. Miss Fortune
went after, and rested not till she had driven him quite into the
meadow; get him into the barn-yard she could not.
"You ain't worth a straw, Ellen!" said she, when she came back;
"couldn't you ha' headed him and driv' him into the barn-yard? Now that
plaguy beast will just be back again by the time I get well to work. He
ha'n't done much mischief yet--there's Mr. Van Brunt's salary, he's made
a pretty mess of; I'm glad on't! He should ha' put potatoes, as I told
him. I don't know what's to be done--I can't be leaving my cheese to run
and mind the garden every minute, if it was full of Timothys; and
_you'd_ be scared if a mosquito flew at you; you had better go right off
for Mr. Van Brunt and fetch him straight home--serve him right! he has
no business to leave things so. Run along, and don't let the grass grow
under your feet!"
Ellen wisely thought her pony's feet would do the business quicker. She
ran and put on her gingham dress and saddled and bridled the Brownie in
three minutes; but before setting off she had to scream to her aunt that
Timothy was just coming round the corner of the barn again; and Miss
Fortune rushed out to the garden as Ellen and the Brownie walked down to
the gate.
The weather was fine, and Ellen thought to herself it was an ill wind
that blew no good. She was getting a nice ride in the early morning,
that she would not have had but for Timothy's lawless behaviour. To ride
at that time was particularly pleasant and rare; and forgetting how she
had left poor Miss Fortune between the ox and the cheese-tub, Ellen and
the Brownie cantered on in excellent spirits.
She looked in vain as she passed his grounds to see Mr. Van Brunt in the
garden or about the barn. She went on to the little gate of the
courtyard, dismounted, and led the Brownie in. Here she was met by
Nancy, who came running from the way of the barn-yard.
"How d'ye do, Nancy?" said Ellen; "where's Mr. Van Brunt?"
"Goodness, Ellen! what do you want?"
"I want Mr. Van Brunt, where is he?"
"Mr. Van Brunt! he's out in the barn, but he's used himself up."
"Used himself up! what do you mean?"
"Why, he's fixed himself in fine style; he's fell through the trap-door
and broke his leg."
"Oh, Nancy!" screamed Ellen, "he hasn't! how could he?"
"Why, easy enough if he didn't look where he was going, there's so much
hay on the floor. But it's a pretty bad place to fall."
"How do you know his leg is broken?"
"'Cause he says so, and anybody with eyes can see it must be. I'm going
over to Hitchcock's to get somebody to come and help in with him; for
you know me and Mrs. Van Brunt ain't Samsons."
"Where is Mrs. Van Brunt?"
"She's out there--in a terrible to do."
Nancy sped on to the Hitchcocks'; and greatly frightened and distressed,
Ellen ran over to the barn, trembling like an aspen. Mr. Van Brunt was
lying in the lower floor, just where he had fallen; one leg doubled
under him in such a way as left no doubt it must be broken. He had lain
there some time before any one found him; and on trying to change his
position when he saw his mother's distress, he had fainted from pain.
She sat by weeping most bitterly. Ellen could bear but one look at Mr.
Van Brunt; that one sickened her. She went up to his poor mother, and
getting down on her knees by her side, put both arms round her neck.
"_Don't_ cry so, dear Mrs. Van Brunt" (Ellen was crying so she could
hardly speak herself), "pray don't do so! he'll be better--Oh, what
shall we do?"
"Oh, ain't it dreadful!" said poor Mrs. Van Brunt. "Oh, 'Brahm, 'Brahm!
my son! the best son that ever was to me--Oh, to see him, there--ain't
it dreadful? he's dying!"
"Oh no, he isn't," said Ellen, "oh no, he isn't! What shall we do, Mrs.
Van Brunt? what shall we do?"
"The doctor," said Mrs. Van Brunt, "he said send for the doctor! but I
can't go, and there's nobody to send. Oh, he'll die! Oh my dear 'Brahm;
I wish it was me!"
"What doctor?" said Ellen; "I'll find somebody to go; tell me what
doctor?"
"Dr. Gibson, he said; but he's away off to Thirlwall; and he's been
lying here all the morning a'ready! nobody found him--he couldn't make
us hear. Oh, isn't it dreadful?"
"Oh, don't cry so, dear Mrs. Van Brunt," said Ellen, pressing her cheek
to the poor old lady's; "he'll be better--he will! I've got the Brownie
here, and I'll ride over to Mrs. Hitchcock's and get somebody to go
right away for the doctor. I won't be long, we'll have him here in a
little while, _don't_ feel so bad!"
"You're a dear blessed darling!" said the old lady, hugging and kissing
her, "if ever there was one. Make haste, dear, if you love him! he loves
you!"
Ellen stayed but to give her another kiss. Trembling so that she could
hardly stand she made her way back to the house, led out the Brownie
again, and set off full speed for Mrs. Hitchcock's. It was well her pony
was sure-footed, for letting the reins hang, Ellen bent over his neck
crying bitterly, only urging him now and then to greater speed, till at
length the feeling that she had something to do came to her help. She
straightened herself, gathered up her reins, and by the time she reached
Mrs. Hitchcock's was looking calm again, though very sad and very
earnest. She did not alight, but stopped before the door and called
Jenny. Jenny came out, expressing her pleasure.
"Dear Jenny," said Ellen, "isn't there somebody here that will go right
off to Thirlwall for Dr. Gibson? Mr. Van Brunt has broken his leg, I am
afraid, and wants the doctor directly."
"Why, dear Ellen," said Jenny, "the men have just gone off this minute
to Mrs. Van Brunt's. Nancy was here for them to come and help move him
in a great hurry. How did it happen? I couldn't get anything out of
Nancy."
"He fell down through the trap-door. But, dear Jenny, isn't there
_anybody_ about? Oh," said Ellen, clasping her hands, "I want somebody
to go for the doctor _so_ much."
"There ain't a living soul!" said Jenny; "two of the men and all the
teams are 'way on the other side of the hill ploughing, and pa and June
and Black Bill have gone over, as I told you; but I don't believe
they'll be enough. Where's his leg broke?"
"I didn't meet them," said Ellen; "I came away only a little while after
Nancy."
"They went 'cross lots, I guess--that's how it was; and that's the way
Nancy got the start of you."
"What shall I do?" said Ellen. She could not bear to wait till they
returned; if she rode back she might miss them again, besides the delay;
and then a man on foot would make a long journey of it. Jenny told her
of a house or two where she might try for a messenger; but they were
strangers to her; she could not make up her mind to ask such a favour of
them. Her friends were too far out of the way.
"I'll go myself!" she said suddenly. "Tell 'em, dear Jenny, will you,
that I have gone for Dr. Gibson, and that I'll bring him back as quick
as ever I can. I know the road to Thirlwall."
"But, Ellen! you mustn't," said Jenny; "I am afraid to have you go all
that way alone. Wait till the men come back, they won't be long."
"No, I can't, Jenny," said Ellen, "I can't wait; I must go. You needn't
be afraid. Tell 'em I'll be as quick as I can."
"But see, Ellen!" cried Jenny, as she was moving off, "I don't like to
have you!"
"I must, Jenny. Never mind."
"But see, Ellen!" cried Jenny again, "if you _will_ go--if you don't
find Dr. Gibson just get Dr. Marshchalk, he's every bit as good and some
folks think he's better; he'll do just as well. Good-bye!"
Ellen nodded and rode off. There was a little fluttering of the heart at
taking so much upon herself; she had never been to Thirlwall but once
since the first time she saw it. But she thought of Mr. Van Brunt,
suffering for help which could not be obtained, and it was impossible
for her to hesitate. "I am sure I am doing right," she thought, "and
what is there to be afraid of? If I ride two miles alone, why shouldn't
I four? And I am doing right--God will take care of me." Ellen earnestly
asked Him to do so; and after that she felt pretty easy. "Now, dear
Brownie," said she, patting his neck, "you and I have work to do to-day,
behave like a good little horse as you are." The Brownie answered with a
little cheerful kind of neigh, as much as to say, Never fear me! They
trotted on nicely.
But nothing could help that being a disagreeable ride. Do what she
would, Ellen felt a little afraid when she found herself on a long piece
of road where she had never been alone before. There were not many
houses on the way; the few there were looked strange; Ellen did not know
exactly where she was, or how near the end of her journey; it seemed a
long one. She felt rather lonely; a little shy of meeting people, and
yet a little unwilling to have the intervals between them so very long.
She repeated to herself, "I am doing right--God will take care of me,"
still there was a nervous trembling at heart. Sometimes she would pat
her pony's neck and say, "Trot on, dear Brownie! we'll soon be there!"
by way of cheering herself; for certainly the Brownie needed no
cheering, and was trotting on bravely. Then the thought of Mr. Van
Brunt, as she had seen him lying on the barn floor, made her feel sick
and miserable; many tears fell during her ride when she remembered him.
"Heaven will be a good place," thought little Ellen as she went; "there
will be no sickness, no pain, no sorrow; but Mr. Van Brunt!--I wonder if
he is fit to go to heaven?" This was a new matter of thought and
uneasiness, not now for the first time in Ellen's mind; and so the time
passed till she crossed the bridge over the little river, and saw the
houses of Thirlwall stretching away in the distance. Then she felt
comfortable.
Long before, she had bethought her that she did not know where to find
Dr. Gibson, and had forgotten to ask Jenny. For one instant Ellen drew
bridle, but it was too far to go back, and she recollected anybody could
tell her where the doctor lived. When she got to Thirlwall, however,
Ellen found that she did not like to ask _anybody_; she remembered her
old friend Mrs. Forbes of the Star Inn, and resolved she would go there
in the first place. She rode slowly up the street, and looking carefully
till she came to the house. There was no mistaking it; there was the
very same big star over the front door that had caught her eye from the
coach-window, and there was the very same boy or man, Sam, lounging on
the sidewalk. Ellen reined up, and asked him to ask Mrs. Forbes if she
would be so good as to come out to her for one minute. Sam gave her a
long Yankee look and disappeared, coming back again directly with the
landlady.
"How d'ye do, Mrs. Forbes?" said Ellen, holding out her hand; "don't you
know me? I am Ellen Montgomery--that you were so kind to, and gave me
bread and milk--when I first came here--Miss Fortune's----"
"Oh, bless your dear little heart," cried the landlady; "don't I know
you? and ain't I glad to see you! I must have a kiss. Bless you! I
couldn't mistake you in Jerusalem, but the sun was in my eyes in that
way I was a'most blind. But ain't you grown though! Forget you? I guess
I ha'n't! there's one o' your friends wouldn't let me do that in a
hurry; if I ha'n't seen you I've heerd on you. But what are you sitting
there in the sun for? Come in--come in--and I'll give you something
better than bread and milk this time. Come, jump down."
"Oh, I can't, Mrs. Forbes," said Ellen; "I am in a great hurry. Mr. Van
Brunt has broken his leg, and I want to find the doctor."
"Mr. Van Brunt?" cried the landlady. "Broken his leg! The land's sakes!
how did he do that? _he_ too!"
"He fell down through the trap-door in the barn; and I want to get Dr.
Gibson as soon as I can to come to him. Where does he live, Mrs.
Forbes?"
"Dr. Gibson? You won't catch him to hum, dear; he's flying round
somewheres. But how come the trap-door to be open? and how happened Mr.
Van Brunt not to see it afore he put his foot in it? Dear! I declare I'm
real sorry to hear you tell. How happened it, darlin'? I'm cur'ous to
hear."
"I don't know, Mrs. Forbes," said Ellen; "but oh, where shall I find Dr.
Gibson? Do tell me! He ought to be there now. Oh, help me! Where shall I
go for him?"
"Well, I declare," said the landlady, stepping back a pace; "I don't
know as I can tell. There ain't no sort of likelihood that he's to hum
at this time o' day. Sam! you lazy feller, you ha'n't got nothing to do
but to gape at folks; ha' you seen the doctor go by this forenoon?"
"I seen him go down to Mis' Perriman's," said Sam. "Mis' Perriman was a
dyin', Jim Barstow said."
"How long since?" said his mistress.
But Sam shuffled and shuffled, looked every way but at Ellen or Mrs.
Forbes, and "didn't know."
"Well, then," said Mrs. Forbes, turning to Ellen, "I don't know but you
might about as well go down to the post-office; but if _I_ was you, I'd
just get Dr. Marshchalk instead! He's a smarter man than Dr. Gibson any
day in the year; and he ain't quite so awful high neither, and that's
something. _I'd_ get Dr. Marshchalk; they say there ain't the like o'
him in the country for settin' bones; it's quite a gift--he takes to it
natural like."
But Ellen said Mr. Van Brunt wanted Dr. Gibson, and if she could she
must find him.
"Well," said Mrs. Forbes, "every one has their fancies. _I_ wouldn't let
Dr. Gibson come near me with a pair of tongs; but anyhow, if you must
have him, your best way is to go right straight down to the post-office
and ask for him there. Maybe you'll catch him."
"Thank you, ma'am," said Ellen. "Where is the post-office?"
"It's that white-faced house down street," said the landlady, pointing
with her finger where Ellen saw no lack of white-faced houses. "You see
that big red store with the man standing out in front?--the next white
house below, that is Mis' Perriman's; just run right in and ask for Dr.
Gibson. Good-bye, dear; I'm real sorry you can't come in. That first
white house."
Glad to get free, Ellen rode smartly down to the post-office. Nobody
before the door; there was nothing for it but to get off here and go in;
she did not know the people either. "Never mind; wait for me a minute,
dear Brownie, like a good little horse as you are!"
No fear of the Brownie. He stood as if he did not mean to budge again in
a century. At first going in Ellen saw nobody in the post-office;
presently, at an opening in a kind of boxed-up place in one corner, a
face looked out and asked what she wanted.
"Is Dr. Gibson here?"
"No," said the owner of the face, with a disagreeable kind of smile.
"Isn't this Miss Perriman's house?"
"You are in the right box, my dear, and no mistake," said the young man;
"but then it ain't Dr. Gibson's house, you know."
"Can you tell me, sir, where I can find him?"
"Can't indeed. The doctor never tells me where he is going, and I never
ask him. I am sorry I didn't this morning, for your sake."
The way, and the look, made the words extremely disagreeable, and
furthermore, Ellen had an uncomfortable feeling that neither was new to
her. Where _had_ she seen the man before? She puzzled herself to think.
Where but in a dream had she seen that bold, ill-favoured face, that
horrible smile, that sandy hair? She knew--it was Mr. Saunders, the man
who had sold her the merino at St. Clair & Fleury's. She knew him, and
she was very sorry to see that he knew her. All she desired now was to
get out of the house and away; but on turning she saw another man, older
and respectable-looking, whose face encouraged her to ask again if Dr.
Gibson was there. He was not, the man said; he had been there and gone.
"Do you know where I should be likely to find him, sir?"
"No, I don't," said he. "Who wants him?"
"I want to see him, sir."
"For yourself?"
"No, sir; Mr. Van Brunt has broken his leg, and wants Dr. Gibson to come
directly and set it."
"Mr. Van Brunt," said he. "Farmer Van Brunt that lives down towards the
Cat's Back? I'm very sorry! How did it happen?"
Ellen told as shortly as possible, and again begged to know where she
might look for Dr. Gibson.
"Well," said he, "the best plan I can think of will be for you----How
did you come here?"
"I came on horseback, sir."
"Ah, well, the best plan will be for you to ride up to his house; maybe
he'll have left word there, and anyhow _you_ can leave word for him to
come down as soon as he gets home. Do you know where the doctor lives?"
"No, sir."
"Come here," said he, pulling her to the door. "You can't see it from
here; but you must ride up street till you have passed two churches, one
on the right hand first, and then a good piece beyond you'll come to
another red brick one on the left hand; and Dr. Gibson lives in the next
block but one after that, on the other side. Anybody will tell you the
house. Is that your horse?"
"Yes, sir. I'm very much obliged to you."
"Well I will say! if you ha'n't the prettiest fit-out in Thirlwall.
Shall I help you? Will you have a cheer?"
"No, I thank you, sir; I'll bring him up to this step; it will do just
as well. I am _very_ much obliged to you, sir."
He did not seem to hear her thanks; he was all eyes, and, with his
clerk, stood looking after her till she was out of sight.
Poor Ellen found it a long way up to the doctor's. The post-office was
near the lower end of the town and the doctor's house was near the
upper; she passed one church and then the other; but there was a long
distance between, or what she thought so. Happily the Brownie did not
seem tired at all; his little mistress _was_ tired and disheartened
too. And there all this time was poor Mr. Van Brunt lying without a
doctor! She could not bear to think of it.
She jumped down when she came to the block she had been told of, and
easily found the house where Dr. Gibson lived. She knocked at the door.
A grey-haired woman with a very dead-and-alive face presented herself.
Ellen asked for the doctor.
"He ain't to hum."
"When will he be at home?"
"Couldn't say."
"Before dinner?"
The woman shook her head. "Guess not till late in the day."
"Where is he gone?"
"He has gone to Babcock--gone to 'attend a consummation,' I guess, he
told me--Babcock is a considerable long way."
Ellen thought a minute.
"Can you tell me where Dr. Marshchalk lives?"
"I guess you'd better wait till Dr. Gibson comes back, ha'n't you?" said
the woman coaxingly; "he'll be along by-and-by. If you'll leave me your
name I'll give it to him."
"I cannot wait," said Ellen, "I am in a dreadful hurry. Will you be so
good as to tell me where Dr. Marshchalk lives?"
"Well--if so be you're in such a takin' you can't wait--you know where
Miss Forbes lives?"
"At the inn?--the Star--yes."
"He lives a few doors this side o' her'n; you'll know it the first
minute you set your eyes on it--it's painted a bright yaller."
Ellen thanked her, once more mounted, and rode down the street.