Page:010 Once a week Volume X Dec 1863 to Jun 64.pdf/363

 19, 1864.] for him,” cried Judith, suddenly. “There’s his card—as they call it—in that newspaper you lent her, ‘Mr. Lewis Carlton: Consulting Surgeon.’ She couldn’t fail to see it. Is she ill, that she is sending for him? She looks not unlikely to be.”

“I say, Judy, don’t go frightening a body like that,” cried the woman, in tremor. “She won’t be ill for these two months; but that nasty omnibus has shook her, and I suppose the faint finished it up. Oh, it rattles over the road without regard to folk’s bones. You’ll take this for me, won’t you, Judith?”

“I daresay!” returned Judith.

“Come, do; there’s a good woman! I can’t go myself, for fear her bell should ring. It’s a fine night, and the run will do you good.”

Judith, not unaccommodating, rose from her seat. “There, now!” she exclaimed, in a tone of vexation, as she took the note, “how am I to get my things? Margaret’s gone out, and she is sure to have bolted the back-door. I don’t like to disturb old Mrs. Jenkinson; the night’s coldish, or I’d go without my bonnet rather than do it.”

“Put on mine,” suggested Mrs. Gould. “You are welcome to it, and to my shawl too.”

Judith laughed; and she laughed still more when arrayed in Mrs. Gould’s things. The shawl did very well, but the bonnet was large, one of those called a “poke,” and she looked like an old woman in it. “Nobody will fall in love with me to-night, that’s certain,” said she, as she sped off.

Mr. Carlton’s house was situated at the other end of the town, just before the commencement of the Rise. It stood by itself, on the left; a. handsome white house, with iron rails round it, and a pillared portico in front. Judith ascended the steps and rang at the bell.

The door was flung open by a young man in livery. “Can I see Mr. Carlton?” she asked.

The man superciliously threw back his head, Judith’s large old bonnet did not tell in her favour. “Is it on perfessional business?” he questioned.

“Yes, it is.”

“Then perhaps, mem, you’ll have the obleegance to walk round to the perfessional entrance; and that’s on that there side.”

He waved his hand condescendingly to the side of the house. Judith complied, but she gave him a word at parting.

“Pray how much wages do you earn?”

“If ever I heered such a. question put to a gentleman?” cried the man in astonishment. “What is it to you?”

“Because 1 should judge that you get so much paid you for clothes, and so much for airs.”

Passing down the steps, and out of reach of sundry compliments he honoured her with in return, she went to the side, and found herself in front of a door with “Surgery” written on it. It opened to a passage, and thence to a small square room, whose walls were lined with bottles. A boy in buttons was lying at full length on the counter, whistling a shrill note, and kicking his heels in the air. The entrance startled him, and he tumbled off feet foremost.

It was but twilight yet, and not at first did he gather in Judith’s appearance; but soon the poke bonnet disclosed itself to view.

“Hulloa!” cried he. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“I want Mr. Carlton. Is he at home?”

“No, he isn’t.”

“Then you must go out and find him. This note must be instantly given to him. A lady wants to see him to—night.”

“Then I’m afeard want must be the lady’s master,” returned the impudent boy. “Perhaps we might get this note tied on to the telegraph wires, and send it to him that fashion; there ain’t no other way of doing it. Mr. Carlton went off to London this morning.”

“To London!” repeated Judith, surprise checking her inclination to box the young gentleman’s ears. “When is he coming home again?”

“When his legs brings him. There! He’ll be home in a couple of days,” added the boy, dodging out of Judith’s reach, and deeming it as well to cease his banter. “His father, Dr. Carlton, was took ill, and sent for him. Now you know.”

“Well,” said Judith, after a pause of consideration, “you had better take charge of this note, and give it to him when he does come home. I don’t know anything else that can be done. And I’d recommend yon not to be quite so free with your tongue, unless you want to come to grief,” was her parting salutation, as she quitted the boy and the house.

As Judith Ford went back through the lighted streets, the landlady of the Red Lion was standing at her door.

“Good evening, Mrs. Fitch”

“Why, who—why, Judith, it’s never you! What on earth have you been making yourself such a guy as that for?”

Judith laughed, and explained how it was that she happened to be out in Mrs. Gould’s things, and where she had been to. “After