"Oh! Well, he'll probably be here in the morning," Rachael said
carelessly.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Breckenridge, but Mr. Breckenridge seemed to be a
good deal worried about himself, and he had me call Doctor
Gregory," the man pursued respectfully.

"Doctor GREGORY!" echoed his mistress, with a laugh like a wail.
"Alfred, what were you THINKING of! Why didn't you call me?"

"He wouldn't have me call you," Alfred said unhappily. "He spoke
to the doctor himself. We got the housekeeper first, and she said
Doctor Gregory was dressing. 'Tell him it's a matter of life and
death,' says Mr. Breckenridge. Then we got him. 'I'm dining out,'
he says, 'but I'll be there this evening.'"

"Oh, dear, dear, dear!" Mrs. Breckenridge said half to herself in
serio-comic desperation. "Gregory--called in for a--for a--for
this! If I could get hold of him! He didn't say where he was
dining?"

"No, Mrs. Breckenridge," the man answered, with a great air of
efficiency.

"Well, Alfred, I wish sometimes you knew a little more--or a
little less!" Rachael said dispassionately. "Light a fire in the
library, will you? I'll have my dinner there. Tell Ellie to send
me up something broiled--nothing messy--and some strong coffee."