“Bring brandy—water, quick!” he said; “the boy has fainted.”
It was quite true, and an hour elapsed before he looked wildly round at those about him.
He tried to rise, and struggled feebly. Then as they held him back he began to talk in a rapid disconnected way.
“’Bliged to take it—so hungry—yes, sir—please, sir—I’ve come back, sir—come back, Mr Sibery, sir—if Mr Hippetts will let me stay—where’s Mother Curdley—where’s nurse!”
“O father!” whispered Helen excitedly! “Poor, poor boy! what does this mean?”
“Fever,” said the doctor gently, as he laid his hand upon the boy’s burning forehead and looked down in his wild eyes. “Yes,” he said softly, “fever. He must have suffered terribly to have been brought to this.”