The idea took such hold on me that I
reached the village on a run, and dropped breathless into a chair
before the chemist's counter. The good man, who was just taking down
his shutters, stared at me so hard that it brought me to myself.
"Mr. Limmel," I says, trying to speak indifferent, "will you run
your eye over this, and tell me if it's quite right?"
He put on his spectacles and studied the prescription.
"Why, it's one of Dr. Walton's," says he. "What should be wrong with
it?"
"Well--is it dangerous to take?"
"Dangerous--how do you mean?"
I could have shaken the man for his stupidity.
"I mean--if a person was to take too much of it--by mistake of
course--" says I, my heart in my throat.
"Lord bless you, no. It's only lime-water. You might feed it to a
baby by the bottleful."
I gave a great sigh of relief, and hurried on to Mr. Ranford's. But
on the way another thought struck me. If there was nothing to
conceal about my visit to the chemist's, was it my other errand that
Mrs. Brympton wished me to keep private? Somehow, that thought
frightened me worse than the other. Yet the two gentlemen seemed
fast friends, and I would have staked my head on my mistress's
goodness. I felt ashamed of my suspicions, and concluded that I was
still disturbed by the strange events of the night. I left the note
at Mr. Ranford's--and, hurrying back to Brympton, slipped in by a
side door without being seen, as I thought.
An hour later, however, as I was carrying in my mistress's
breakfast, I was stopped in the hall by Mr.
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