“I feel so mean that I guess I wouldn’t be any good in school,” confessed Tess, and went to lie down.
Dot struggled with her dose, and although they both felt better the next morning, she could not wholly forgive Dr. Forsyth for ordering such a bad tasting draught.
“Hullo, Dorothy!” said the doctor jovially, when he appeared on that next day to see how his more important patients were getting on. “What do you think of the medicine I gave you yesterday?”
“I—I don’t want to—to think of it at all, sir,” stammered Dot. “I’m—I’m trying to forget it!”
Like Neale and the adult members of the household, Mr. Howbridge became at once anxious about Ruth and Agnes when he heard of their illness. Even Agnes’ jokes could not hide the fact that the two girls were in a serious condition.
“We lie here with only a wall separating us, barking like two strange dogs on either side of a picket fence,” said the flyaway sister. “How’s Ruth now? Bark, dear, and let me hear you!”
But Dr. Forsyth forbade much conversation—especially at the top of Agnes’ “barking voice,” as she expressed it. Mr. Howbridge said gloomily enough to the physician:
“I am really worried about those girls. I thought they were enough of a charge when I first assumed responsibility to the Court for them. But now I am afraid that I may lose them.”
“Nothing like that! Nothing like that!” exclaimed Dr. Forsyth. “But I won’t say that conditions are not serious. They may be housebound for a good part of the winter.”
“You don’t say! And just when I was considering very seriously getting into a more cheerful climate, myself, for January and February. You know, I begin to feel those two months in my bones, Doctor.”