"You must bring it to be christened," said the Vicar kindly. "Can you come on Wednesday?"
"Yes, I'll come," she said with a sort of choke. And now the woman having lit a fresh candle, ushered them into the sick man's room.
"Typhus and scarlatina!" said the Doctor. "How this place smells after being in the air. He is sensible again, I think."
"Quite sensible," the sick man answered aloud. "So you've come, Mr. Thornton; I'm glad of it; I've got a sad story to tell you; but I'll have vengeance if you do your duty. You see the state I am in!"
"Ague!" said the Vicar.
"And who gave it me?"
"Why, God sent it to you," said the Vicar. "All people living in a narrow wet valley among woodlands like this, must expect ague."
"I tell you she gave it to me. I tell you she has overlooked me; and all this doctor's stuff is no use, unless you can say a charm as will undo her devil's work."
"My good friend," said the Vicar, "you should banish such fancies from your mind, for you are in a serious position, and ought not to die in enmity with anyone."
"Not die in enmity with her? I'd never forgive her till she took off the spell."