“Yes, it is typhoid beyond a doubt,” he said, “and epidemic. Please sit down. Personally I am disposed to think it may be traced to the water-supply of the town, which has come since the drought was so bad from an open spring in the Gresham fields. I am making a bacteriological examination of it. Till that is settled I should advise you not to drink it, or even use it for washing, except after boiling.”
“Are you very short of nurses?” asked Miss Fortescue.
“Yes, I am at my wit’s end to know what to do. My wife has volunteered to help, and, I hear, two other ladies. There are some coming from London and Shrewsbury to-day, but we have fifty fresh cases reported this morning, and there will be certainly more I have not yet heard of.”
“Miss Avesham and I have come to offer our help,” said Miss Fortescue. “I have been six months in a London hospital, and know something about it, though I have never nursed typhoid.”
“That is very kind of you,” said Dr. Maitland, “and I accept your offer most gladly. But it is right to tell you that you run some risk. As far as we can see, the disease is of the most malignant type. Several have died already, which is rare in the first week. In your case, Miss Fortescue, the risk is light, but for younger people it must not be disregarded. There is a risk.”
Miss Fortescue looked at Jeannie.
“I suppose many of the nurses are quite young,” said Jeannie.
“No doubt; but it is their profession.”
“Aunt Em, there is really no choice,” said Jeannie. “I am afraid I may not be of much use, Dr. Maitland, but please let me do what I can.”
Dr. Maitland was not given to gushing any more than Miss Fortescue.