"Then you don't think it's scarlet fever?" anxiously asked Marion.
"No, nor typhoid; I feared one or the other, but now I am confident it is nothing contagious. She is pretty sick, but not dangerously so; but how are you, Miss Marion? Walking over broken bridges at twelve o'clock at night isn't a very good thing for red cheeks, is it?"
"What did he mean?" asked Florence, as he left the room.
"Some of his nonsense," replied Marion, from whose heart a great weight had been lifted.
"Marion, you don't put me off in that way," said Florence, laying her hands on Marion's shoulders, and looking straight into her eyes. Suddenly an idea seemed to flash into her head: "Did you go for the doctor?"
Marion nodded assent.
"Tell me about it."
"There is nothing to tell. I woke up in the night, and saw Miss Christine, with a light in her hand, going downstairs. She told me Rachel seemed very ill, and I went in and stayed with her while Miss Christine was gone. Then she wanted to go for the doctor, for she would not call Biddy; but I preferred going to being left with Rachel; so I went; that's all."
"But what about the broken bridge?" asked Florence.
"The bridge was half down, and I crossed on the beams."