Then her voice, uplifting in a panic, shrilled out a wild appeal for doctor, servants--help of any kind.

And, almost as she spoke, Travers was beside her, Travers and Forshay and Robert Murdock--yes, and silly little Mrs.Somerby-Miles, too, forgetting in the face of such a time as this to be anything but helpful and womanly--and all of these gave such assistance as was in their power.
"Help me get him up to his own room, somebody, and send a servant post-haste for the doctor," said Captain Travers, taking the lead after the fashion of a man who is used to command.

"Calm yourself as much as possible, Mrs.Bawdrey.Here, Murdock, lend a hand and help him." "Eh, mon, there is nae help but Heaven's in sic a case as this," dolefully responded Murdock, as he came forward and solemnly stooped to obey.

"The puir auld laddie! The Laird giveth and the Laird taketh awa', and the weel o' mon is as naething." "Oh, stow your croaking, you blundering old fool!" snapped Travers, as Mrs.Bawdrey gave a heart-wrung cry and hid her face in her hands.

"You and your eternal doldrums! Here, Bawdrey, lend a hand, old chap.