With a little cry of pity, Pegeen ran toward him, but Archibald caught her in his arms and lifting her bodily, carried her into the next room.
“Listen, Peg,” he said quietly, as he put her down. “The man has fever. There’s no telling what the disease is. I can’t have you taking chances. You can help most by getting on Zip and riding down to Miss Moran’s to telephone for Doctor Fullerton. Tell him what’s wrong and that I want him at once. Then ask Miss Moran for some old linen she can spare and some soap and bring them to me.”
“But you’re going to stay,” she protested.
“And who’ll take care of me if I get sick unless you keep in shape for it?”
The argument was overwhelming. She allowed him to lift her to the saddle and pelted away down the road at a breakneck pace, while Archibald went back into the house.
He found an old stove in the kitchen and made a fire in it Then he filled a kettle with fresh water and set it over the fire.
Whatever the doctor’s verdict was, hot water was sure to be needed in that house.
Pegeen was back in a few minutes.
“Miss Moran and Mr. Meredith have gone motoring,” she said breathlessly, as Archibald lifted her from the horse, “but Ellen’s coming. John’s going to bring her over in the cart. I’ve got some sheets and towels and a blanket and a cake of soap, but she’ll have more linen and scrubbing brushes and lots of cleaning things. There comes the doctor now. I hear his car.”
A muddy battered roadster came plunging up the crooked road at reckless speed and a tall, wiry, competent-looking man sprang out of it.