Page:Marie Adelaide Belloc Lowndes - The Lodger.djvu/88

78 and then Bunting dropped the paper and rushed round the table.

His wife, with a curious sighing moan, had slipped down on to the floor, taking with her the tablecloth as she went. She lay there in what appeared to be a dead faint. And Bunting, scared out of his wits, opened the door and screamed out, "Daisy! Daisy! Come up, child. Ellen’s took bad again."

And Daisy, hurrying in, showed an amount of sense and resource which even at this anxious moment roused her fond father’s admiration.

"Get a wet sponge, Dad—quick!" she cried, "a sponge,—and, if you’ve got such a thing, a drop o’ brandy. I’ll see after her!" And then, after he had got the little medicine flask, "I can’t think what’s wrong with Ellen," said Daisy wonderingly. "She seemed quite all right when I first came in. She was listening, interested-like, to what I was telling her, and then, suddenly—well, you saw how she was took, father? ’Taint like Ellen this, is it now?"

"No," he whispered. "No, ’taint. But you see, child, we’ve been going through a pretty bad time—worse nor I should ever have let you know of, my dear. Ellen’s just feeling it now—that’s what it is. She didn’t say nothing, for Ellen’s a good plucked one, but it’s told on her—it’s told on her!"

And then Mrs. Bunting, sitting up, slowly opened her eyes, and instinctively put her hand up to her head to see if her hair was all right.

She hadn’t really been quite "off." It would have been better for her if she had. She had simply had an