“We must send for Dr. Parshefield at once. But who can go? Henry injured his foot to-day and cannot walk. Lennon, the butler, cannot ride a horse, and Simon, the stable boy, would be frightened to death so late at night.”
“Oh, what shall we do?” cried Alice.
“Do?” exclaimed Aunt Ella. “I'll go myself. It's only two miles to Ketchley and I can ride back with the Doctor. I'll get Harry to help me harness the horse. Open the windows to give your boy plenty of air, and fan him.”
She took up the oil lamp that stood upon her writing table. “This is whale oil—a nauseous smelling compound. Rub his neck and chest well with it.”
Alice sought the nursery and followed Aunt Ella's directions. She was sitting by the crib watching her child's laboured breathing when her aunt returned.
“Harry is going on horseback. He knows the road to Ketchley and where the Doctor lives. Give him some more of the oil.”
It was administered and the child began to choke—he seemed to be strangling—then the phlegm that had impeded his breathing was thrown off, and his face resumed its natural colour. When the Doctor arrived an hour later, he was sleeping quietly. Aunt Ella told what they had done by way of emergency treatment.
“Evidently a very effective treatment,” said Dr. Parshefield. “I could not have done better myself.”
“It was so good of you, Harry,” said Alice. “I shall never forget your kindness.”
Then she threw her arms about Aunt Ella's neck.