It was a fever sure enough. It would be better to have her in a separate chamber, and if some old nurse would come in. "There was Mistress Fanshaw, only come home last week."
"I will go for her," responded Andrew.
"I shall be in on the second day," the doctor announced, as he mounted his horse and settled his saddlebags.
"A sad thing for all of us." Rachel wiped her eyes with the end of her stout linen apron.
"I shall take Primrose back to Wetherill farm."
"Oh, that will indeed be a relief. She and Faith, I foresee, would not get along together, and I could not manage such a froward child."
Andrew made no reply. There was a little more work devolving upon him, and he deputed the rest of the day's management to Penn.
He had fortified himself with many arguments as to why Primrose should return to her great aunt, but to his surprise, his father assented at once. He was much worried about his wife, who had never been ill before.
Primrose was glad with a great delight. She sat under the tree with Faith and roused the child's envy with accounts of her life in town, and the time for pleasure.
"But dost thou not sew or knit?"