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Updated: June 21, 2025
The message gave the name and address of an experienced nurse with the doctor's compliments, and would Mr. Karnegie have the kindness to send for her immediately. The nurse was found and sent up stairs. Time went on, and the business of the hotel went on, and it was getting to be late in the evening, when Mrs. Karnegie appeared at last in the parlor behind the bar.
She was ready to accept any thing proposed, provided the writing materials were supplied first. Mrs. Karnegie sent them up, and then compounded a certain mixture of eggs and hot wine for which The Sheep's Head was famous, with her own hands. After the lapse of a few moments a cry of alarm was heard from the upper landing. Mrs.
Karnegie snapped her fingers, and said, "That for her good looks! You don't know a good-looking woman when you see her." Mr. Karnegie agreed with his wife. Nothing more was said until the waiter appeared at the bar with his tray. Mrs. That for her health! It's trouble on her mind." Mr. Karnegie said, "Is it now?" Mrs.
Karnegie raised her a little, examined her closely then suddenly changed color, and sent her daughter out of the room with directions to dispatch a messenger instantly for medical help. Left alone with the sufferer, Mrs. Karnegie carried her to her bed. As she was laid down her left hand fell helpless over the side of the bed. Mrs.
Karnegie looked at his boots, and answered, "I wonder, too, my dear." Miss Karnegie said, "You're not going to Ma, are you?" Mr. Karnegie looked up from his boots, and answered, "I must, my dear." Mr. Camp sat in his private room, absorbed over his papers. Multitudinous as those documents were, they appeared to be not sufficiently numerous to satisfy Mr. Camp. He rang his bell, and ordered more.
The landlady's face was grave, the landlady's manner was subdued. "Very, very ill," was the only reply she made to her daughter's inquiries. When she and her husband were together, a little later, she told the news from up stairs in greater detail. "A child born dead," said Mrs. Karnegie, in gentler tones than were customary with her. "And the mother dying, poor thing, so far as I can see."
Graham" had asked her a very remarkable question of a business nature, at the interview between them up stairs. As it was, Mrs. Karnegie's lips were sealed, and let Mr. Karnegie deny if he dared, that he richly deserved it. Mr. Karnegie agreed with his wife. In half an hour more, "Mrs. Graham" came down stairs; and a cab was sent for. Mr.
ON the day when Sir Patrick received the second of the two telegrams sent to him from Edinburgh, four respectable inhabitants of the City of Glasgow were startled by the appearance of an object of interest on the monotonous horizon of their daily lives. The persons receiving this wholesome shock were Mr. and Mrs. Karnegie of the Sheep's Head Hotel and Mr. Camp, and Mr.
Graham" had just arrived, and was then and there to be booked as inhabiting Room Number Seventeen. Karnegie came to the point, and confessed that "Mrs. Graham" was one of the sweetest-looking women he had seen for many a long day, and that he feared she was very seriously out of health. Upon that reply the eyes of Mrs. Karnegie developed in size, and the color of Mrs. Karnegie deepened in tint.
"Poor soul!" said the respectable landlady, taking appearances for granted. "Where's your husband, dear? Try and tell me." The doctor made his appearance, and went up to the patient. Time passed, and Mr. Karnegie and his daughter, carrying on the business of the hotel, received a message from up stairs which was ominous of something out of the common.
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