"Why doesn't she come in, then? Of course she must come in."
And she ran out to the door of the carriage, with Max not far behind.
"Aren't you coming in? They've taken your patient upstairs," she said gently, as poor Carrie, who looked more dead than alive, sat up in the carriage and tried to put her hat and her cape straight.
"Oh, I shan't be wanted now, shall I?" asked Carrie, with a timid voice and manner which contrasted strongly with her calm, easy assurance while she was at work.
Max threw a glance of gratitude at his sister, as he quickly opened the door of the carriage and more than half dragged Carrie out.
As the girl stepped, blinking, into the broad sunlight, Doreen stared at her intently, and then glanced inquiringly at her brother, who, however, did not see her questioning look. He led Carrie into the house and straight up the stairs toward the room where they had put Dudley.
"Don't make me stay," pleaded she, in a low voice. "They will know I'm not a regular nurse, and—and I shall be uncomfortable, miserable. You can do without me now."
She was trying to shrink away. Max stopped in the middle of the stairs, and answered her gravely, earnestly:
"I only ask you to stay until we can get a regular nurse down. He is too ill to do without a trained attendant; you know that. Will you promise to wait while we send for one?"
Carrie could scarcely refuse.