Ellen followed Mrs. Lloyd and the maid up-stairs, and, before she knew what she was doing, was assisting to put the room in perfect readiness for the wounded man.  The maid was weeping all the time she worked, although she had never liked Mr. Lloyd.  There was something about her mistress which was fairly abnormal.  She kept looking at her.  This gentle, soft-natured woman had risen above her own pain and grief to a sublime strength of misery.

“Get the camphor, quick, Martha,” she said to the maid, who flew out, with the tears streaming.  Ellen stood on one side of the bed, and Mrs. Lloyd on the other.  Mrs. Lloyd had stripped off the blankets, and was pinning the sheet tightly over the mattress.  She seemed to know instinctively what to do.

“I wish you would bring that basin over here, and put it on the stand,” said Mrs. Lloyd.  “Martha, you fetch more towels, and, Maggie, you run up garret and bring down some of those old sheets from the trunk under the window, quick.”

This maid, who was as large and as ample as her mistress, fled out of the room with heavy, noiseless pads of flat feet.

All the time Mrs. Lloyd worked she was evidently listening.  She paid no attention to Ellen except to direct her.  All at once she gave a great leap and stood still.

“They’re coming,” said she, though Ellen had heard nothing.  Ellen went close to her, and took her two fat, cold hands.  She could say nothing.  Then she heard the roll of carriage-wheels in the street below.

Mrs. Lloyd pulled her hands away from Ellen’s and went to the head of the stairs.

“Bring him right up here,” she ordered, in a loud voice.

Ellen stood back, and the struggling procession with the prostrate man in the midst labored up the broad stairs.

“Bring him in here,” said Mrs. Lloyd, “and lay him on the bed.”

When Lloyd was stretched on the bed, the crowd drew back a little, and she bent over him.

Then she turned with a sort of fierceness to the doctors.

“Why don’t you do something?” she demanded.  She raised a hand with a repellant gesture towards the other men.

“You had better go now,” said she.  “I thank you very much.  If there is anything you can do, I will let you know.”

When Mrs. Lloyd was left with the two doctors and a young assistant, Robert, and Ellen, she said, cutting her words short as if she released every one from a mental grip: 

“I have got everything ready.  Shall I go out now?”

“I think you had better, Mrs. Lloyd,” said the family physician, pityingly.  He went close to Ellen.

“Can’t you stay with her a little while?” he whispered.

Ellen nodded.

Then the physician spoke quite loudly and cheerfully to Mrs. Lloyd.

“We are going to probe for the ball,” he said.  “We must all hope for the best, Mrs. Lloyd.”

Mrs. Lloyd made no reply.  She bent again over her husband with a rigid face, and kissed him on his white lips, then she went out, with Ellen following.