'I cannot say she is any better; she has a distressing cough, and last night I am afraid she was a little delirious.'
'Ah, you say the cough is distressing?'
'I am afraid I must call it distressing; is that a very bad sign?'
'Probably there is not much wrong, but it would be better to ascertain the condition of the patient, and then we may be able to do something to relieve her.'
The doctor drew a stethoscope from his pocket, and they lifted the patient into a sitting position.
'I should like to examine her chest;' and his fingers moved to unfasten her night-gown.
'Don't expose me,' she murmured feebly.
'Now, Olive dear, remember it is only the doctor; let him examine you.'
Olive's eyes were a dull filmy blue, the lips were covered with sores, and there was a redness over the cheekbones—not the hectic flush of phthisis, but a dusky redness. And the patient was so weak that during the stethoscopic examination her head fell from side to side as she was moved, and when the doctor pressed her right side her moans were pregnant with pain.
'Now let me see the tongue. Dry and parched.'