The Doctor had been up all night; he had gone through more anxiety than he could have believed himself capable of feeling; he had found that his heart had gone out unconsciously, eleven weeks ago, to the child who had called him a beast; and he felt that all the glory his profession could bring him was not worth so much as the saving of that one little life upstairs. And then people came and bothered him with their senseless questions. If she were worse, was it likely he would be leaving her now?
He was worn out with want of sleep, and it did not occur to him that the same thing might possibly be true of the white-faced lads before him.
'Bless my soul!' he exclaimed testily. 'How many _are_ there of you? There's a couple at every corner. How can you expect your sister to get better if you hang about the place and ask questions at the top of your voice? There's--there's an atmosphere of nervous sentiment all over the house that's enough to ruin any case.'
Wilfred was dumbfounded, and stared stupidly. But Christopher suddenly found his tongue, and, being Christopher, he found it sarcastically.
'Counting Jill, there are only six all together,' he said, peering up at the irritated young man through his spectacles, 'so you won't meet any more.'
'I don't care how many there are of you,' grumbled Dr. Hurst, flinging on his coat. 'Keep out of her way, that's all--and mine too.'
'You may be sure we'll do that, if we can,' retorted Wilfred, recovering his courage. 'Only, you haven't told us yet how she is.'
'You seem to forget she's our sister, and we're beastly cut up about her,' added Kit, glumly.
'She's not a rotten bacteria, either,' said Wilfred, in a vicious undertone which the Doctor fortunately missed.
Dr. Hurst felt a little bit ashamed of himself, and was more cross than ever. 'There, there! She's better, of course,' he muttered, pushing past his questioners. Then he saw the sleeping Robin curled up in front of the stove, and he glanced back at the tired faces of the other two. 'Best thing you can do is to go straight to bed,' he advised, jamming his hat down on his head. 'Best thing for the case, too.'
Kit smiled at him indulgently. 'Let them go to bed who have beds,' he remarked. 'I've only got an arm-chair.'