Among the many unnecessary things which Mr. Cato did in the
bewilderment of Dwala’s sudden illness, the most unnecessary was to
telegraph news of it to his sister, Lady Lillico.
‘Dwala ill lung hemorrhage doctors offer little hope recovery Wyndham.’
They were in the drawing-room when the telegram came, just preparing to
go and dress for dinner.
‘How too perfectly frightful!’ cried Lady Lillico. ‘The Premier dying!
I must go at once.’
‘Good Lord, Louisa, what for?’ said her husband.
‘Don’t be so cynical, John. If Wyndham has telegraphed for me?’
‘Are you going to nurse the Prince?’
‘Of course I am. Pray keep your insinuations for some more fitting
time. What brutes men are! I believe you feel _nothing_ even now!’ At
which she began to cry.
‘What about yer dinner?’
‘As if I could dine! Tell Hopkins to make up a little basket of
something to eat on the way. One mustn’t give any extra trouble. Oh
dear, oh dear; and my maid’s out! I shall have to take Emily. You must
send Harper on _at once_ when she comes in.’
However, no feats of heroism were demanded of Lady Lillico. She found
Mr. Cato and Huxtable waiting for her with a comfortable meal--Lady
Wyse stayed with Dwala--for though the servants’ hall was all agog
with the events of the afternoon, and the butler darkly prognosticated
‘the worst,’ things above stairs were in their usual train. And when
she presented herself an hour later, almost gay with fine emotion, in
a ‘business-like costume,’ cap and pinafore complete, in the darkened
sick-room, Lady Wyse, who hurried to the door to check her entry--her
violet eyes grown nearly black, and looking ‘very wicked,’ as Lady
Lillico said afterwards--told her baldly that she would not be wanted
till the morning.