Jane insisted on bringing in a cot and sleeping beside the little girl who lay quite as still as if she were dead. Now and then she gave her the drops and fanned the air about her. The morning came and the city was astir again. But it was quiet in Loraine place. So many had gone away and there were no trolleys nearby.
They looked over Marilla’s head and found one spot above the ear that had a small bit of discoloration, but it was not in a dangerous place. The doctor came in. 72
“I did not think there would be much change,” he said. Then he tried to rouse her. Jane held her up while they gave her a little milk which she swallowed without difficulty. She opened her eyes and closed them again, then lay quiet.
He listened to Miss Armitage’s interview and nodded as she went along.
“The child is terribly run down. I think she has worked harder than any one imagined. But they seem to have appreciated her.”
No one could guess the strain of talking so incessantly to amuse the babies, of reading to Jack, of having eyes all over to see that he did not torment the little ones, push their playthings out of the way, give them sly pinches or tweak their hair. She did hate to tell tales on him. And when he coaxed to go out with her he was a constant care. School had been closed for a fortnight. Oh, how tired she was every night!
“You don’t eat more than a bird,” Bridget would complain.
“But I’m never hungry now, I shall be so glad when we get to the real country, and grass, and everything. I’m so tired of the 73 rows and rows of red brick houses, and they all seem so hot.”
And now Bridget was almost heart broken.
Ellen Day came in to tell Miss Armitage how glad she was that a good word had been spoken for her. “And she was sure she should like the ladies and the pretty little boy. But how fat the babies were and not a bit pretty. They were to start at twelve tomorrow.”