Timothy and his master.
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 fifth of April, as
they learnt 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 herself 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 realize 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 every-day 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
him 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 Hitchcook 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 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 that 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 that 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 han'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 a 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 a-bed the way she'd look out for
him! Mr. Van Brunt's as good as at home in that house, sure
enough; whoever's down-stairs."
"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. Look! he'll be at the corn, and over every
thing. Run and drive him into the barnyard, 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 the 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, and 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 pole, and made such a show of fight, that Timothy,
after looking at her a little, fairly turned tail, and marched
out at 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 barnyard 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
barnyard? Now that plaguy beast will just be back again by the
time I get well to work. He han'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 with 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 barnyard.
"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 though the
trapdoor, 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 Hitchcock's; 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, 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 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 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's 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, 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
reigned 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 han't! There's one o'
your friends wouldn't let me do that in a hurry. If I han't
seen you, I've heered 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, 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 o' likelihood
that he's to hum this time o' day. Sam! you lazy feller, you
han't got nothing to do but 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' know."
"Well, then," said Mrs. Forbes, turning to Ellen, "I don' 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 and 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 the 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 han'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 grayhaired woman with a very ill-
favoured countenance 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 is 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, han't
you?" said the woman coaxingly; "he'll be along by-and-by.
If you'll leave 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 Mis' 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.