"No, Katy." The doctor came back to reality with a start. "She will not die."
His expression terrified Katy.
"Then, when will she be well again?"
"I cannot say."
The whistle sounded again from beyond the garden wall. This time it penetrated to the consciousness of Katy, who, hearing it, blushed. No one but Alvin Koehler could produce so sweet and clear a note. For the first time he had called her. The night was warm and bright, and the breeze carried the odor of honeysuckle and jasmine into the kitchen. The beauty of the night seemed mocking. Katy's heart cried out angrily against the trouble which had come upon her, against the greater grief which now threatened.
"You mean that she will be sick a long, long time?"
"Possibly."
Katy clasped and unclasped her hands.
"You do not mean that perhaps she will never be well?"
"I do not believe she can ever be well, Katy." The doctor now laid his hand on Katy's shoulder.