y.'

''Tis a bad business,' said Toole, gloomily, like a man that's
frightened. And he followed Mrs. Sturk, leaving Lowe adjusting his
papers in the parlour.

Toole found his patient laden with blankets, and shivering like a man in
an ague, with blue sunken face. And he slipped his hand under the
clothes, and took his pulse, and said nothing but--'Ay--ay--ay'--quietly
to himself, from time to time, as he did so; and Sturk--signing, as well
as he could, that he wanted a word in his ear--whispered, as well as his
chattering teeth would let him,

'You know what _this_ is.'

'Well--well--there now, there; drink some of this,' said Toole, a little
flurried, and trying to seem cool.

'I think he's a little bit better, doctor,' whispered poor little Mrs.
Sturk, in Toole's ear.

'Twill pass away. Ma'am.'

Toole was standing by the bedside, looking rather woefully and
frightened on Sturk's face, and patting and smoothing the coverlet with
the palm of his stumpy, red hand; and whispering to himself from time to
time, 'Yes, yes,' although with rather a troubled and helpless air.

Just then came the roll of a coach to the door, and a long peal at the
knocker; and little Toole ran down to meet the great Doctor Pell in the
hall. He was in, in a moment, and turned aside with Toole into the
drawing-room. And Toole's voice was heard pretty volubly. It was only a
conference of about two minutes. And Dr. Pell said in his usual _tall_
way, as they came out--

'How long ago, Sir?'

'About ten--no, hardly so much--_eight_ minutes ago,' answered Toole, as
he followed that swift phantom up the stairs.

'Your most obedient, Ma'am,' said the slim and lofty doctor,
parenthetically saluting the good lady; and he stood by the bedside,
having laid his muff on the chair.

'Well, Sir, and how do you feel? There now, that will do, Sir; don't
mind speaking; _I_ see. And he put his hand under the clothes, and laid
it on Sturk's arm, and slid it down to his hand, and felt his pulse.

'And he's been near ten minutes this way?' said the doctor.

'Oh, he was a great deal worse; 'tis a vast deal better now; isn't it,
Doctor Toole?'

'The rigor is subsiding, then. Has he had a sweat, Ma'am?' said Pell.

'Oh, no--nothing like--quite nice and cool, doctor--and no fever; nice
quiet sleep; and his appetite wonderful; tell him, Doctor Toole.'

'Oh, yes, Ma'am--Doctor Pell knows; I told him all, Ma'am,' said Toole,
who was looking with a blank