To call in a doctor seemed to Miss Quincey next door to invoking Providence itself; it was the final desperate resort, implying catastrophe and the end of all things.

Oh, dear! Miss Quincey wished he would come up if he was coming, and get it over.
After all he did not keep her waiting long, and it was over in five minutes.

And yet it was amazing the amount of observation, and insight, and solid concentrated thought the young man contrived to pack into those five minutes.
Well--it seemed that it was not general paralysis this time, nor yet anemia of the brain; but he could tell her more about it in the morning.
Meanwhile she had nothing to do but to do what he told her and stay where she was till he saw her again.

And he was gone before she realized that he had been there.
Again?
So he was coming again, was he?
Miss Quincey did not know whether to be glad or sorry.

His presence had given her a rare and curiously agreeable sense of protection, but she had to think of the expense.