"I think it bad to allow him to have his violin," he said;
"it excites him and increases the fever. And--I think I should like a
consultation."
Lady Kingsmead burst into tears and hurried from the room, but Brigit
wrote a telegram, as dictated by the old doctor who had brought the boy
into the world, to a famous physician in London, and a groom was sent
galloping to the station to send it.
"Who is this person he always takes me for?" asked the doctor, polishing
his glasses. "This morning he insisted on my--on my playing for him. I
have never played anything except the cornet, when I was a young man.
I--it very nearly upset me, Lady Brigit. I love Tommy."
Brigit flushed. "Wanted you to play the violin?" she returned.
"Yes. He has not done so until this morning for several days, but he
quite insisted to-day."
"It must be--Joyselle. We--we know him very well, and Tommy adores him."
As she spoke the nurse came in.
"Would you mind coming, my lady? He is very restless and insists on
trying to play. I can't quiet him at all----"
They went back into the sick-room and found Tommy sitting up in bed,
holding his violin in the position for playing, and scolding in a sharp
staccato voice because he couldn't find his bow.
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