“No. I am sure he would help the baby for nothing. He is the health inspector of Polktown and gets a salary for it.”
“Pap wouldn’t like it if I took him,” said Jinny reflectively. “An’ I couldn’t kerry him so far.”
“I’d take you both in the car,” urged Janice.
“Nop,” said Virginia Trimmins, shaking her obstinate head. “I don’t want no ride in your car. I reckon Buddy is a-gittin’ better,” and she walked away with the poor little fellow.
But there came a day when, as Janice drove up to the clearing in the wood, she heard screams and wailing from the cabin. The door was open but nobody appeared. She stopped the car and jumped out, venturing to run to the door.
“Oh! what is the matter?” she inquired, looking in.
All the children except Virginia and the smaller ones were off in the woods somewhere. The mother sat in a sway-backed rocker and moaned to herself as she swung to and fro, her dirty apron over her head. Virginia was hovering over the trundle bed in the corner, and Janice, receiving no answer, tiptoed to her side.
The poor little baby lay on the outside of the bed. A single glance told the dreadful story. He was in convulsions.
“Jinny! Jinny!” murmured Janice, seizing the black-haired girl by the arm. “He must have a doctor! Let me get Doctor Poole!”
“No, no!” wailed the mother, who heard her. “His pappy can’t never pay for no doctor comin’ yere.”