As soon as he was gone she crept noiselessly to bed—half happy and half sad. This new friendship seemed wonderful to her, yet if she was to have it at the cost of Marjorie’s illness, it was not worth it.
The next day brought little change in the patient’s condition. Flowers and notes and messages continued to arrive, but Marjorie was oblivious to all that was going on. Queenie took charge of everything, and presently fell into a routine of duties which at least kept her calm.
To her surprise, however, she found no word from John Hadley, no expression of concern from the one person who she expected would be most solicitous. This seemed so strange to her that she mentioned the fact to Jack at dinner, and he replied that he had heard that he had gone out of town.
“But he knows she is sick,” continued Queenie; “because I told him the day he brought me to college.”
“I believe he was here that first night to inquire,” remarked Jack. “Are you sure he hasn’t telephoned?”
“Not when I was at home,” answered the girl.
The day nurse entered the room softly and stood in the doorway, a mute appeal in her eyes. Mrs. Wilkinson rose anxiously.
“I’m afraid Miss Marjorie’s worse,” she whispered. “I think we had better call the doctor—and suggest a consultation. I expect the crisis tonight.”
“Oh!” gasped Queenie, choking over the food she had put into her mouth, but with a great effort summoning her control. She had already learned the necessity of self-restraint.
Mr. Wilkinson went to the telephone, and Mrs. Wilkinson returned to the sick room with the nurse. Queenie turned to her supper and tried to eat.