“I believe I’ll go for the doctor,” said Mary.
“Yes, for I don’t see that I shall ever get better unless I have some medicine. Bring my purse.”
Mary did as directed, and when Irene had opened it she uttered a cry:
“Oh, the wretch, to think that he could do that.”
“What is it?” Mary asked.
“He has taken nearly all my money, and there is but fifty dollars left. Oh, what in heaven’s name will become of me?”
“Let me bring the doctor at any rate,” said Mary.
“Yes, go; I must have something to help me up. I shall go wild to lie here another day.”
Mary called the physician.