"No'm, not knittin', Mother wrote Stefana. Kind of—of unravelin' instead. An' Mother's caught it."
Miss Theodosia turned appealing eyes to Stefana.
"Her knee's bad, too. Maybe it's just rheumatism, but she borrows Aunt
Sarah's crutches when they're empty. I don't see how she'd get home—"
"Don't send for her!" Miss Theodosia directed. Some inner voice seemed to say it through her lips. The same dictate from within prompted the rest.
"Bring the baby over here. Bring all his nightgowns. I'll take care of him. It won't do for all you children to come down. Does the Reform—does the doctor think you can have caught them already? I don't believe it! Not till the disease is further advanced."
"That's what he said—not till." Stefana hurried in eagerly. "He didn't believe it."
"The Benjamin baby wasn't further advanced," doubted Evangeline discouragingly.
"Never you mind the Benjamin baby! You bring your baby over here at once with his nightgowns! I believe we're in time. I'll be reading up my medicine book. You can tell the doctor to come here instead of to your house. Don't any of you dare to kiss Elly Precious good-by!"
Miss Theodosia was moving briskly about the room, doing strange things,—pulling down shades and drawing together draperies.
"Mustn't have too much light, though maybe that is later on, too. I'm sure there is something about being careful of the eyes. Evangeline, wait! Let Stefana go. I don't trust you; you might kiss him."