In the Twilight, in the Evening by Lynn Morris

Author:Lynn Morris
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781619700802
Publisher: Hendrickson Publishers
Published: 2012-07-16T00:00:00+00:00

As if some evil gnome, unseen, was watching them, timing them, gauging just when they might take a moment to breathe easy, a tap sounded on the door of Mr. Marlett Fair’s room. “Mr. Irons? Mr. Irons?” came Jesty Tukes’ inquiring whisper.

Shiloh and Cheney, still on either side of Mr. Fair’s bed, exchanged resigned glances. “Will you excuse us, Mr. Fair?” Cheney asked as politely as if they were at high tea. “Don’t worry, you’re doing just fine. I’ll talk to your mother, and then I’m sure she’ll want to come back in and be with you.”

The young Mr. Fair began making weak frantic signals. “What?” Cheney asked, mystified.

“Yeah, I’m sure Mr. Indro will be glad to stay with you, Mr. Fair,” Shiloh said reassuringly.

The apothecary patted the boy’s thin shoulder and said lightly, “Of course, I shall be glad to stay with you, Mr. Fair. And I’ll be even gladder if you should allow me to sample a drop of that wonderful brandy over there on the table.” He mopped the top of his shiny head theatrically. “This is considerably more exacting than rolling pills.”

Marlett Fair almost smiled and weakly gestured toward the table that held the fine old Napoleon brandy. Then he closed his eyes in weary contentment.

Cheney and Shiloh stepped outside the room. Jesty Tukes waited for them, his brown eyes wide with distress. “Mr. Irons, I . . . I . . . wasn’t too sure about interrupting you, and I didn’t know you were in there, Dr. Duvall—”

The boy was obviously distraught, the strain of the night beginning to tell. “Mr. Tukes,” Cheney said briskly, “the first thing you must learn as a medical student is to always sound sure of yourself, even—or perhaps especially—when you’re not.”

“Huh? I . . . I mean, I beg your pardon?” Jesty was mystified, and a little appalled that Dr. Duvall appeared to be advising him to be impudent. Only Shiloh’s half grin made him understand that she was teasing.

“Oh yes,” she went on, completely aware of his confusion. “You must bang on the door and shout, ‘Mr. Irons! Dr. Duvall! Your presence is required with another patient!’ ”

With a trapped look on his face, Jesty opened his mouth wide and took a deep preparatory breath. Hastily Cheney went on, “No, not . . . really shout, Mr. Tukes. I just mean that you must develop a stern voice and a commanding demeanor.”

Jesty clamped his mouth shut, cleared his throat, and lowered his tenor to a comically deep and artificial baritone. “Mr. Irons, Dr. Duvall!” he grunted. “Your presence is required with another patient!”

Cheney and Shiloh exchanged amused looks, and Shiloh clapped the boy so soundly on the shoulder he almost staggered. “That’s much better, Jesty,” he declared. “But you’ll need to practice, you know, polish it up a little. Now, which patient is it that’s about to croak now?”

Jesty’s freckled face positively sagged at this irreverent sally, but he noted that Dr. Duvall seemed unmoved. In fact, she

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