"Oh!" she said, turning the exact colour of the red rose in his hand and looking first as though she were going to cry and then to laugh; for to tell the truth at that instant laughter was nearer to her than were tears. "Oh! you know you oughtn't to do that."
"I don't care," said Andrew defiantly. "I love you."
What else he would have said or done remains dark, for at that moment footsteps were heard in the passage and a big genial voice saying:
"In all my professional experience, which is fairly extended, I do not think I ever met such a case. Of course, we are aware that a woman is never what she seems to be, except when she is in a rage, but you don't often find one who announces herself to be three people and without any histrionic training plays all the parts so well."
"No," answered another rather dreamy voice, that of Dr. Watson. "It suggests all sorts of queer things, doesn't it? For example, reincarnation and the imprisonment of sundry entities in one corporeal shape."
"Ah! Doctor," said the big voice of Somerville Black, "there you are getting into mysticism, which personally I find it safer always to put out of court. To me, therefore, at present it suggests an unusual and most complicated case of nerves, resulting probably from suppressed instincts."
Then came a crash, followed by:
"Hullo! Ma'am, I didn't see you coming."
"Oh!" exclaimed Rose, "that idiot Angelica has run into him with the tea–tray in the dark passage," and promptly she sped like a swallow towards the door.
As she reached it, it opened, and behold! there was a second collision, this time between Rose and the large advancing shape of Dr. Somerville Black.
With another "Oh!" she recoiled, as a bird might that had unexpectedly come into contact with a bull, and would have fallen had not the advancing Andrew caught her.
"I begin to think," went on the big voice, "that I have been reincarnated as a shunting railway truck. However, young lady," he added, suddenly realizing the kind of person with whom he had to do, "if you like to come out of that friendly shelter and charge again, I am sure I don't mind."
Then followed explanations, in the midst of which Dr. Watson, who had stayed behind in the passage to assist with the overset crockery, arrived upon the scene. He was a tall, thin, nervous–looking man, with dark eyes and a clean–shaved, ascetic face that would have become a mediæval saint, on which from time to time appeared a smile of singular sweetness. Idealist was written all over him, especially in his eyes which had the dreaming look of the typical visionary. Curiously enough, there was a considerable resemblance between him and Andrew; indeed, they might easily have passed for father and son. Nor did this cease with their physical characteristics, since their mental fibre and attitude were very similar. Both of them were dreamers, both were somewhat impracticable, neither of them had in him the making of a successful man, as the world understands success. Of course, it was the lack of these qualities, as also the presence of others, that drew the two together. From the time that Andrew had appeared at the hospital, a shy, awkward, unusual kind of youth, Dr. Watson had taken a fancy to him which, as years went on, ripened into as much friendship as is possible between men of such different ages. He became his favourite pupil, and somehow it was always understood, without anything very definite being said on the matter, that when he was qualified he would join Dr. Watson in his Whitechapel practice.
Catching sight of him the Doctor's face brightened with one of his sweet smiles.
"How do you do, Brother Andrew?" he said. "Very glad to see you and to congratulate you."
Dr. Somerville Black, a man of quick perceptions, glanced quickly at all three of them and then said, addressing Rose:
"Ha–ha, young lady, now I see why you refuged where you did, in this young gentleman's arms, though to tell the truth, unless I had your father's word for it, and I suppose he ought to know, I should never have believed that you were brother and sister, even when he is so obviously your father's son."
Now Rose coloured in her usual fashion. Dr. Watson looked puzzled, and Andrew, with some irritation, for this term of Brother where Rose was concerned annoyed him, explained that there was a slight mistake as he was unconnected with anyone in the room.
"It is our habit," added Dr. Watson, "to give the fraternal salutation to friends in this house, as is customary among the community of Christian Socialists to which I and my family belong."
"Oh! is it?" said Black, with one of his loud, jolly laughs. "Personally I was never so fond of my relations as to wish to extend their number, especially in Whitechapel. However, Sister, to adopt the sororal style, as I think the other Sister in the passage has upset the tea all down my back, I shall be grateful if you can lend me a cloth. I have to go on to see a royal lady, and those infernal flunkeys might notice the stain."
The article was produced from somewhere and snatching it from Rose's hand, Andrew began to rub his back.
"I think, young gentleman," exclaimed Somerville Black, "that our joint Sister there could conduct this operation just as effectively with an expenditure of exactly one–fourth of the muscular force. Unless you are careful, you will wear a hole through my new frock–coat. But why is Brother, or Uncle, or Father Watson offering you his congratulations? Have you perhaps just entered upon some contract of a prenuptial character with our Sister? I seem to diagnose symptoms indicative of the complaint called Love."
If Rose had coloured before, now she turned positively scarlet. Faintly she murmured some denial and fled from the room, while Andrew commenced an involved contradiction.
"Don't waste words, young man. I think it highly probable that my diagnosis is correct, but that the disease is still in the suppressed form. The rash will appear later, say after fourteen days' incubation. If it is wrong, however, so much the better for some other fellow."
At this point Dr. Watson, who had been listening unconcernedly to his eminent colleague's jovial if unusual jesting, explained that he was congratulating Andrew on having done extremely well in his final examination, as from private sources of information he had just learned was the case. As a matter of fact being, as has been said, very fond of him, it would not have troubled him at all to learn that he and Rose were affianced. Indeed, in an indefinite way he had once or twice hoped that this might happen.
"Oh! that's it," said the jolly doctor. "So you are going to become a saw–bones like the rest of us. Well, I wish you luck and a fat practice among the Jews, and if ever you want a helping hand, don't you forget old Somerville Black, F.R.C.S., M.D., Honorary Physician to exactly twenty–three Royalties, whom he fondly hopes will pay his bill with a baronetcy shortly, since he thinks it probable that they will not do so in any other way. And now here comes our Sister to whom you are not engaged which, as an antique eligible myself who has only buried one wife, I am naturally glad to learn. Young lady, whenever you feel inclined to share a peculiarly hideous house in Harley Street with an old buffer of established income, just drop me a postcard, will you? Good gracious! What's the matter with the other Sister's head?" and he pointed to the tow–like chevelure of Angelica of which a considerable portion had been given to the flames.
"It was an accident to the gas stove," explained Rose, glad to have an opportunity of changing the subject, for Angelica seemed too overcome to speak.
"Ah! then if the scalp is burned I prescribe the application of some fatty ointment to keep away the air. Fee for consultation, two guineas. It would be three in Harley Street. And now for that tea."
All this while the bewildered Angelica was engaged in setting on the Elizabethan table at more or less irregular intervals, four stout pieces of crockery which looked like porridge–bowls or small slop basins. Then at the end of it she placed a large brown teapot, and in the middle a plate of thick bread and butter, with a handful of knives and another of teaspoons. Rose seized the teapot and began to pour into the porridge–bowls.