‘Dr Fellows,’ cried the sick girl, as she clutched at his coat sleeve, ‘save me, for God’s sake—save me! I came to you because you are so good and kind, but—but—I think I am dying.’
‘No! No! my dear! it will be all right by-and-by,’ replied the Doctor soothingly; ‘but you must be good now, and do as I tell you, and you will soon be well. Liz and I are going to move you into my bedroom.’
‘And shall I be alone with you?’ she asked, with scared eyes.
‘Yes!—quite alone! Now, Lizzie, take her feet, and I will carry her head and shoulders, and we’ll have her on the bed in no time.’
‘Is it the fever?’ inquired Liz, with a white face, for she knew that Maraquita’s constitution was very fragile.
‘Yes! yes! Now, go and leave us, and tell this to no one.’
‘But, father, let me undress her first.’
‘I wish you to go at once and leave us alone,’ repeated the Doctor firmly.
Liz obeyed her father’s orders at once. She was too well used to work under him as an assistant, to dream of disputing them. But she was very much astonished to hear him send her away from her adopted sister’s side.
‘Shall I run up to the White House and tell Mr and Mrs Courtney that Quita is with us, father? They will be terribly alarmed if they find out she has gone.’