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In all our work, whether temporal or spiritual, we had the help and powerful sympathy of our friend Dr McTougall and his family; also of his friend Dobson, the City man, who was a strong man in more ways than one, and a zealous champion of righteousness or "rightness," as he was fond of calling it, in contradistinction to wrongness.
Mrs McTougall, in a blue cotton gown with white spots, which belonged to the housemaid, reclined on a sofa; she was deadly pale, and the expression of horror was not quite removed from her countenance. Beside her, administering restoratives, sat Miss Blythe, in a chintz dress belonging to the cook, which was ridiculously too large for her.
John he chanced to bear my own name had been so long subject to night alarms, partly from cats careering in the back yard, and his mistress demanding to know, through the tube, if he heard them; partly, also, from frequent ringing of the night-bell, by persons who urgently wanted "Dr McTougall," that he had become callous in his nervous system, and did much of his night-work as a semi-somnambulist.
Let him ask particularly for me Dr McTougall. I'm not in my own house, but in a friend's at present; I was burnt out of my house last night." "Oh, sir!" exclaimed Mrs Jones with a shocked expression. "Yes; accidents will happen, you know, to the most careful among us, Mrs Jones," said the little doctor, with a smile, as he drew on his gloves. "Good evening.
There were several in the train, but none are injured, I believe, though some are much shaken. Nobody has been killed. It has been quite a miraculous escape." "Merciful call it merciful, my dear sir," said I, looking upwards and thanking God with all my heart for sparing my life. Two days after that I lay on the drawing-room sofa in Hoboy Crescent. Mr and Mrs McTougall had gone out.
She was dishevelled and flushed, and looked so pleasantly anxious about Mrs McTougall that I almost forgave her having robbed me of my doggie. "Miss Blythe, your deliverer!" cried the little doctor, who seemed to delight in blowing my trumpet with the loudest possible blast; "my dear, your preserver!" I bowed in some confusion, and stammered something incoherently.
Thus admonished, the Slogger chuckled and melted into the darkness, while Brassey mingled himself with the shadow of a pillar. The key lost by the care-taker and found by the burglar fitted into the empty lock even more perfectly than that which Mrs McTougall had conveyed to her mantelpiece some hours before.
A minute or two more and it would be too late. I could not see. Suddenly I felt a door and kicked it open. The black smoke entered with me, but it was still clear enough inside for me to perceive the form of a girl lying on the floor. It was she! "Miss McTougall!" I shouted, endeavouring to rouse her; but she had fainted. Not a moment now to lose. A lurid tongue of flame came up the staircase.
"Don't call me Lilly," she said in a low, quiet tone; "it is only a pet name which the little ones here gave me on my first coming to them. Call me Edith." "I will," said I, with enthusiasm, "a far more beautiful name. I'll " "Hallo! hi! Mellon, are you there?" For the second time that day Dr McTougall interrupted me, but I was proof against annoyance now.
Little Slidder had rushed excitedly into the room, but stopped abruptly on observing Miss Blythe, who was looking from him to me with intense surprise. Before another word could be said, a servant entered: "Please, Miss Blythe, Doctor McTougall wishes to see you in his study." She left us at once.
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