“What do you say, Aleck? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t tell, indeed,” said Aleck as they hurried on; “some sound I heard led me to fear that he was in trouble, and I went to his room. He seems to be sleeping, but he looks strangely, and I can’t rouse him.”
Neither could the doctor. He knew that as soon as he got one look in the face, but he did not say so; he stepped quietly to the bed and shook him gently by the shoulder, then lifted an eyelid, listened to the heavy breathing, and looked Aleck slowly in the face.
“Stimulants?” asked Aleck, eagerly.
The doctor shook his head.
“No use, my boy; we will try, if you like, but the work is done, I’m afraid.”
Aleck brought something, but only to find, as the doctor said, it was of no use.
“Oh, what is it?” he cried; “what is the matter? Why cannot we do something?”
“Because there is nothing to be done, Aleck, nothing but to wait and watch by him, that he may not be alone at the last.”