"Oh, do you think she's going to die? Can't we do anything for her? Can't I do anything?"
"I think she seems very ill indeed," replied Miss Christine, going to the bedside, and laying a cloth wet in cold water on Rachel's head; then coming back to Marion, "Will you stay with her while I go for the doctor?"
"Can't you send Bridget?"
"No, the poor thing is half worn out with all she has had to do this week. I would not call her up for anything. If you will stay with Rachel, and keep changing the cloth on her head, I will go, for I dare not wait until morning."
"O Miss Christine!" exclaimed Marion, in a trembling whisper, "I can't stay; indeed I can't, and hear her rave about her father; it is dreadful! it goes right through me; you stay and I'll go."
"Marion, do you know it is almost midnight? You will be afraid."
"You were not."
"No, because I'm not nervous."
"Well, I won't be nervous; if there's no danger for you, there is none for me. I shall go."
"Any real danger I do not think there is, but of imaginary danger a plenty, and if you should get seriously frightened I never should forgive myself."