tledon gave him some weak tea, and sent for Mr. Brook to come
round as soon as possible. At breakfast she met the dowager, who had
been out the previous evening during the powder episode. Lady Hartledon
mentioned to her husband that she had sent a message to the doctor, not
much liking Edward's symptoms.

"What's the matter with him?" asked the dowager, quickly. "What are his
symptoms?"

"Nay, I may be wrong," said Lady Hartledon, with a smile. "I won't infect
you with my fears, when there may be no reason for them."

The countess-dowager caught at the one word, and applied it in a manner
never anticipated. She was the same foolish old woman she had ever been;
indeed, her dread of catching any disorder had only grown with the years.
And it happened, unfortunately for her peace, that the disorder which
leaves its cruel traces on the most beautiful face was just then
prevalent in London. Of all maladies the human frame is subject to,
the vain old creature most dreaded that one. She rose up from her seat;
her face turned pale, and her teeth began to chatter.

"It's small-pox! If I have a horror of one thing more than another, it's
that dreadful, disfiguring malady. I wouldn't stay in a house where it
was for a hundred thousand pounds. I might catch it and be marked for
life!"

Lady Hartledon begged her to be composed, and Val smothered a laugh. The
symptoms were not those of small-pox.

"How should you know?" retorted the dowager, drowning the reassuring
words. "How should any one know? Get Pepps here directly. Have you sent
for him?"

"No," said Anne. "I have more confidence in Mr. Brook where children are
concerned."

"Confidence in Brook!" shrieked the dowager, pushing up her flaxen front.
"A common, overworked apothecary! Confidence in him, Lady Hartledon!
Elster's life may be in danger; he is my grandchild, and I insist on
Pepps being fetched to him."

Anne sat down at once and wrote a brief note to Sir Alexander. It
happened that the message sent to Mr. Brook had found that gentleman away
from home, and the greater man arrived first. He looked at the child,
asked a few bland questions, and wrote a prescription. He did not say
what the illness might be: for he never hazarded a premature opinion.
As he was leaving the chamber, a servant accosted him.

"Lady Kirton wishes to see you, sir."

"Well, Pepps," cried she, as he advanced, having loaded herself with
camphor, "what is it?"

"I do not take upon my