"He is dying! To the nearest doctor! There's one three doors off.

No bonnet! It's life and death this moment.

Fly!" Polly obeyed, and Doctor Andrews was actually in the room within five minutes.
He looked grave, and kneeled down by the patient, and felt his pulse anxiously.
Miss Somerset sat down, and, being from the country, though she did not look it, began to weep bitterly, and rock herself in rustic fashion.
The doctor questioned her kindly, and she told him, between her sobs, how Sir Charles had been taken.
The doctor, however, instead of being alarmed by those frightful symptoms she related, took a more cheerful view directly.

"Then do not alarm yourself unnecessarily," he said.

"It was only an epileptic fit." "Only!" sobbed Miss Somerset.