"Elma," he said vaguely, trying to recall her.
"Oh," she answered promptly, but still staring, "is that you, Sym--Sym--Symington!"
Her father choked down what he could of the lump that gathered, and moved quietly away.
These were dark days for every one. Elma had the best of it. She left the Symington groove after a day or so, and worked on to Isobel. Isobel invaded her mind. It was a blessing that Isobel was barred by real distaste to the business from going in to help with the nursing of Elma. What she said of her pointed to more than a mere dislike. It revolved into fear as the delirium progressed. Then a second nurse arrived, and between them the two began really to decrease the temperature. The first good news came, "Asleep for ten minutes," and after that there was no backward turn in the illness for Elma.
Throughout this time there had been the keenest inquiries made as to what had caused the illness. Cuthbert was down and "made things hum" in the matter of wakening up the sanitary authorities and so on. But no flaw in the arrangement of the White House or anything near it could be discovered. Then Dr. Merryweather called one day.
"I have another patient in Miss Annie," he said.
Miss Annie! This gave a clue.
"Typhoid at her age is unusual," he said, "but she has not developed the power of resisting disease like ordinary people. She has been in a good condition for harbouring every germ that happened to be about. I'm afraid we cannot save her." He turned to Mrs. Leighton. His kind old face twitched suddenly.
"Oh, dear, dear," she exclaimed. "What will Miss Grace do? What will little Elma do?"
"Miss Grace is all right," said Dr. Merryweather. "I've seen to that. Elma must not know, of course."