w he
was gone, and the mistress and Miss Clare bending over him, and the
mistress calling to me to telephone for the doctor. The poor mistress,
she was so white, I thought she'd go off, but she kept up wonderful; and
Miss Clare, she was worse, all scared and white, as if she'd seen a
ghost. I rang for Dr. Armes, and he came round at once, and I got
hot-water bottles and put them in the bed, but the doctor wouldn't move
him for a bit, he examined him where he lay, and he found the back was
broke. He told the mistress straight out. "His back's broke," he said.
"There's no hope," he said. "It may be a few hours, or less," he said.
Then he sent for a mattress and we laid the master on it, down in the
hall, and put hot-water bottles to his feet, and then the mistress said
I'd better go back to bed; but, oh, dear, I couldn't do that, so I just
waited in the kitchen and got a kettle boiling in case the mistress and
Miss Clare would like a cup of tea, and I had a cup myself, my lady, for
I was all of a didder, and nothing pulls you round like a drop of hot
tea. Then I took two cups out into the hall for the mistress and Miss
Clare, and when I got there the doctor was saying, "It's all over," and,
dear me, so it was, so I took the tea back to keep it hot against they
were ready for it, for I couldn't speak to them of tea just at first,
could I, my lady? Then the doctor called me, and there was Miss Clare
laying in a fit, and he was bringing her round. He told me to help her to
her room, and so I did, and she seemed half stunned-like, and didn't say
a word, but dropped on her bed like a stone. Then I had to help the
doctor and the mistress carry the poor master on the mattress up to his
room, and lay him on his bed; and the doctor saw to Miss Clare a little,
then he went away and said he'd send round a woman for the laying out....
Poor Miss Clare, I was sorry for her. Laid like a stone, she did, as
white as milk. She's such a one to feel, isn't she, my lady? And to hear
the fall and run out and find him like that! The poor master! Them
stairs, I always hated them. The back stairs are bad enough, when I have
to carry the hot water up and down, but they don't turn so sharp. The
poor master, he must have stumbled backwards, the light not being good,
and fallen clean over. And it isn't as if he was like some gentlemen,
that might have had a drop at dinner; no one ever saw the master the
worse, did they, my lady? I'm sure cook and me an