"Give her a teaspoonful of this mixture every half hour until the fever abates," handing a glass to Miss Christine, "I will come again to-morrow morning."
"O doctor," whispered Marion, who had silently watched every movement, "is it scarlet fever?"
Miss Christine said nothing, but her eyes asked the same question.
"Of course I cannot tell yet," said the doctor, rising and drawing on his gloves, "but I hardly think it is. I noticed her the other day, when I was here, and remember thinking at the time that even a slight illness would seem more severe with her than with most persons. She looks like a person who had suffered and endured without complaint. I don't like to see that sort of look on a young face. When she is ill this unnatural self-control gives way, and she's out of her head, when any other person would be all straight. However, I advise you to keep all the scholars away from her for the present. As for this young lady," taking hold of Marion's hand, "the best place for such adventurous young females, who go about crossing broken bridges at midnight, is bed."
"What do you mean by broken bridges, doctor?" asked Miss Christine.
"Only that the bridge was down, and she crossed on the beams, that's all. My prescription for her is a glass of hot lemonade with a drop of something in it to keep it; you understand, Miss Christine;" and the doctor nodded his head significantly as he left the room.
"My dear Marion," whispered Miss Christine, as she threw her arms around her, "you are the bravest girl I ever knew!"
"Nonsense!" replied Marion, "and please don't say anything about it downstairs in the morning; I won't be talked about."
"I understand," said Miss Christine; "but now you must go straight to bed. I'll heat the lemonade over the gas, and bring it in to you."
"Miss Christine, you go and lie down yourself, and I'll sit up; indeed, I couldn't sleep if I went to bed."