When Dr Thorne reached Boxall Hill he found Mr Rerechild from Barchester there before him.  Poor Lady Scatcherd, when her husband was stricken by the fit, hardly knew in her dismay what adequate steps to take.  She had, as a matter of course, sent for Dr Thorne; but she had thought it so grave a peril that the medical skill of no one man could suffice.  It was, she knew, quite out of the question for her to invoke the aid of Dr Fillgrave, whom no earthly persuasion could have brought to Boxall Hill; and as Mr Rerechild was supposed in the Barchester world to be second—­though at a long interval—­to that great man, she had applied for his assistance.

Now Mr Rerechild was a follower and humble friend of Dr Fillgrave; and was wont to regard anything that came from the Barchester doctor as sure as light from the lamp of Aesculapius.  He could not therefore be other than an enemy of Dr Thorne.  But he was a prudent, discreet man, with a long family, averse to professional hostilities, as knowing that he could make more by medical friends than medical foes, and not at all inclined to take up any man’s cudgel to his own detriment.  He had, of course, heard of that dreadful affront which had been put upon his friend, as had all the ’medical world’—­and all the medical world at least of Barsetshire; and he had often expressed sympathy with Dr Fillgrave and his abhorrence of Dr Thorne’s anti-professional practices.  But now that he found himself about to be brought in contact with Dr Thorne, he reflected that the Galen of Greshamsbury was at any rate equal in reputation to him of Barchester; that the one was probably on the rise, whereas the other was already considered by some as rather antiquated; and he therefore wisely resolved that the present would be an excellent opportunity for him to make a friend of Dr Thorne.

Poor Lady Scatcherd had an inkling that Dr Fillgrave and Mr Rerechild were accustomed to row in the same boat, and she was not altogether free from fear that there might be an outbreak.  She therefore took an opportunity before Dr Thorne’s arrival to deprecate any wrathful tendency.

‘Oh, Lady Scatcherd!  I have the greatest respect for Dr Thorne,’ said he; ’the greatest possible respect; a most skilful practitioner—­something brusque, certainly, and perhaps a little obstinate.  But what then? we have all our faults, Lady Scatcherd.’

‘Oh—­yes; we all have, Mr Rerechild; that’s a certain.’

’There’s my friend Fillgrave—­Lady Scatcherd.  He cannot bear anything of that sort.  Now I think he’s wrong; and so I tell him.’  Mr Rerechild was in error here; for he had never yet ventured to tell Dr Fillgrave that he was wrong in anything.  ’We must bear and forbear, you know.  Dr Thorne is an excellent man—­in his way very excellent, Lady Scatcherd.’

This little conversation took place after Mr Rerechild’s first visit to his patient:  what steps were immediately taken for the relief of the sufferer we need not describe.  They were doubtless well intended, and were, perhaps, as well adapted to stave off the coming evil day as any that Dr Fillgrave, or even the great Sir Omicron Pie might have used.