"He can not be moved, then?" asked Rose, who had recovered sufficiently to know what was passing.
"By no means," said the doctor, "is it your child?" he asked, looking with surprise at the girlish form before him.
Rose bowed her head.
"In fact," said the doctor, "I shouldn't think you were fit to go yourself, if that were your intention."
Mrs. Howe's face flushed, and she walked up and down the floor uneasily.
"How long before he will be able to be moved?" asked Rose.
"It is impossible to tell. I think he may have a run of fever. I can tell better to-morrow. Perhaps it would be better, on account of this window," suggested the doctor, as he pointed to the broken panes of glass, "to remove the child into another room. Don't you think so, madam?" he asked, turning to Mrs. Howe.
"Oh, of course, certainly," replied Mrs. Howe, "he ought to have every comfort the house affords."
Had the doctor known Mrs. Howe better, he would not have been deceived at the seeming Samaritanism of this sarcastic reply. Rose could only groan in anguish.