She turned, and called in a voice more clear than soft. It rang through the thick oak of the hall and kitchen doors more effectually than a bell's summons. Mrs. Gill, who was deep in bread-making, came with hands and apron in culinary case, not having dared to stop to rub the dough from the one or to shake the flour from the other. Her mistress had never called a servant in that voice save once before, and that was when she had seen from the window Tartar in full tug with two carriers' dogs, each of them a match for him in size, if not in courage, and their masters standing by, encouraging their animals, while hers was unbefriended. Then indeed she had summoned John as if the Day of Judgment were at hand. Nor had she waited for the said John's coming, but had walked out into the lane bonnetless, and after informing the carriers that she held them far less of men than the three brutes whirling and worrying in the dust before them, had put her hands round the thick neck of the largest of the curs, and given her whole strength to the essay of choking it from Tartar's torn and bleeding eye, just above and below which organ the vengeful fangs were inserted. Five or six men were presently on the spot to help her, but she never thanked one of them. "They might have come before if their will had been good," she said. She had not a word for anybody during the rest of the day, but sat near the hall fire till evening watching and tending Tartar, who lay all gory, stiff, and swelled on a mat at her feet. She wept furtively over him sometimes, and murmured the softest words of pity and endearment, in tones whose music the old, scarred, canine warrior acknowledged by licking her hand or her sandal alternately with his own red wounds. 
She called in a clear, penetrating voice. Mrs. Gill, who was deep in bread-making in the kitchen, came at once, not daring even to rub the dough from her hands or shake the flour from her apron. Her mistress had never called a servant in that voice save once before, when Tartar had been fighting with two large carriers' dogs, encouraged by their masters. Then Miss Keeldar had summoned John as if the Day of Judgment were at hand. Without waiting for him, she had walked out into the lane, put her hands round the thick neck of the largest cur, and used all her strength to pull it from Tartar's torn and bleeding head. She had not said a word to anybody during the rest of the day, but sat till evening tending Tartar. She wept furtively over him sometimes, and murmured the softest words of pity and endearment, which the old, scarred, canine warrior acknowledged by licking her hand. 