In the
lady's case it was intermittent, and she spent only the third day in
her bed, the others in crouching over the fire or hanging over the
child's bed, where he lay constantly tossing and fevered all night,
sometimes craving to be on his sister's lap, but too restless long to
lie there. Both manifestly became weaker, in spite of all Grisell's
simple treatment, and at last she wrung from the lady permission to
send Ridley to Wearmouth to try if it was possible to bring out
Master Lambert Groot to give his advice, or if not, to obtain
medicaments and counsel from him.
The good little man actually came, riding a mule. "Ay, ay," quoth
Ridley, "I brought him, though he vowed at first it might never be,
but when he heard it concerned you, mistress--I mean Dame Grisell--he
was ready to come to your aid."
Good little man, standing trim and neat in his burgher's dress and
little frill-like ruff, he looked quite out of place in the dark old
hall.
Lady Whitburn seemed to think him a sort of magician, though inferior
enough to be under her orders. "Ha! Is that your Poticary?" she
demanded, when Grisell brought him up to the solar. "Look at my
bairn, Master Dutchman; see to healing him," she continued
imperiously.
Lambert was too well used to incivility from nobles to heed her
manner, though in point of fact a Flemish noble was far more
civilised than this North Country dame.
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