He ran to call the family doctor, who lived some two blocks below on the same street.

He caught him just as he was getting into the carry-all with his family, bound for church.
Vandover and the physician rode back together in the carry-all, the two gray horses going up the steep hill at a trot.

The doctor was dressed for church; he wore red gloves with thick white seams, a spray of lilies-of-the-valley in his lapel.
"I'm afraid we can do nothing," he said warningly.

"It's your father's old enemy, I suppose.

This was--it was sure to happen sooner or later.
Any sudden shock, you know." Vandover scarcely listened, holding the door of the carry-all open with one hand, ready to jump out, beating the other hand upon his knee.
"Go back and take the rest of them to church now," said the doctor to his coachman when the carry-all stopped in front of Vandover's house.
The whole house was in the greatest agitation all the rest of the day.
The curtains were drawn, the door bell rang incessantly, strange faces passed the windows, and the noise of strange footsteps continually mounted and descended the staircase.