"Father, I have had a message from Mrs. Heavitree to-day. She wants me to go to the Vicarage to-morrow afternoon. Shall I ask about a doctor when I'm there?"
"Do, my girl. And, mind you, I won't spare expense, so long as it's within my means. I've got enough laid by to meet a call o' that sort, I hope."
Plunkett went off; and Mrs. Plunkett said: "I wish he wouldn't; I don't want to see nobody."
"Only if it's right, mother?"
Mrs. Plunkett sighed.
And a quick thought flashed through Marigold's mind,—Had she always attended lately to that question of "right"?
"If it is right, mother?" she repeated.
"I couldn't go to a hospital—I couldn't, and I wouldn't. I wouldn't dare! If I've got to die, I'd sooner die quiet in my bed here."
"But, mother, suppose you're not meant to die yet? Suppose you are meant to get well,—and suppose that's the way to get well?"
"You don't know as it is!"