After a brief introduction to Doris, Dr. Sinclair makes a grave and careful inspection of little Daisy. Presently, with his cool firm hand resting on the child's forehead, he turns to the girls, and speaking in a slightly lowered voice he says:
"There is no danger of its being infectious fever of any kind. She is suffering from a severe form of low fever; a thing that with so delicate a child is even more difficult to treat sometimes. Her constitution has completely run down, and she has no strength to speak of at all. Has she had no appetite? What have you been giving her to eat?"
Honor flushes again painfully as she answers in a low voice:
"She has had a good deal of milk lately, Dr. Sinclair; and sometimes a little fowl—and—eggs, of course. And Daisy is fond of milk-puddings; and—and in fact she has a great many puddings of all kinds—" and here the poor girl breaks off suddenly, feeling in her heart that it is not a very extensive list of dainties she has enumerated.
"But meat," says the doctor, turning smilingly towards Honor; "what meat has she had? She wants good steaks and chops and strong beef-tea, jellies and a little good port, and that sort of thing. Hasn't she cared for meat lately?"
The tears fill Honor's eyes and a lump rises in her throat, but she swallows it down bravely; and turning a little away from the keen eyes of the doctor, says sadly:
"My little sister used to have all these things in my father's lifetime, doctor, but since he—since he died we have not been so well off, and," with a pitiful little smile, "we have not been able to afford all these nourishing things which we know dear little Daisy ought to have."
Honor's face is almost as white now as it was flushed before, for the effort to speak thus has been great. She turns towards the window, but before she can reach it the doctor is at her side with outstretched hands.
"Forgive me," he says simply; "I had forgotten all your trouble. Please forgive my careless, and what must have seemed to you, my heartless words."
"Indeed," replies Honor gently, and accepting his proffered hand, "there is no need of forgiveness. You only spoke the truth, though it sounded a little cruel at the moment; but it was my fault in being so silly as to feel it," and she hastily wipes away two obstreperous tears which have forced their way from beneath her lowered eyelids.