Almost immediately a parlormaid appeared, saw the footman, then Enid, and her face went white.

“An accident?” she said with a slight stammer.

“Fever,” Hester answered, going towards her. “She should go straight to bed. I am a nurse. If Lord Ravensbrook is willing, I shall stay and look after her. Is he at home?”

“No ma'am.”

“I think you should send for him. She is very ill.”

“You should have brought her sooner,” the footman said critically. “You had no right to leave her till she was in this state.”

“It came on very suddenly.” Hester held her tongue with difficulty. She was too tired and too distressed for Enid to have patience to argue with anyone, least of all a footman. “For heaven's sake, don't stand there, take her upstairs, and show me where I can find clean water, a nightgown for her, and plenty of towels and cloths, and a basin-in fact, two basins. Get on with it, man!”

“I'll get Dingle,” the parlormaid said hastily. And without explaining who that was, she turned on her heel and left, going back through the green baize door and leaving it swinging. Hester followed the footman up the broad, curved staircase and across the landing to the door of Enid's bedroom. She opened it for him and he went inside and laid Enid on the bed.

It was a beautiful room, full of pinks and greens, and with several Chinese paintings of flowers on the walls.

But there was no time to observe anything but the necessities, the ewer of water on the dresser, the china bowl and two towels.

“Fill it with tepid water,” Hester ordered.

“We have hot-”

“I don't want hot! I'm trying to bring her fever down, not send it up. And another bowl. Any sort will do. And please hurry up.”

With a flash of irritation at her manner, he took the ewer and left with the door ajar behind him.

He had been gone only long enough for Hester to sit on the bed beside Enid and regard her anxiously as she began to toss and turn, when the door swung wide again and a woman of about forty came in. She was plain and dowdy, and wore a gray stuff dress of rigid design, but extremely well cut to show an upright and well-shaped figure. At the present she looked in a state of considerable distress.

“I am Dingle, Lady Ravensbrook's maid,” she announced, staring not at Hester but at Enid. “What has happened to her? Is it the typhoid?” “Yes, I'm afraid so. Can you help me to undress her and make her as comfortable as possible?”