So Miss Anne put the lamp down at their door, and went out into the kitchen to light another lamp for herself. She also opened the coals, and put a little wood upon the fire, and hung the tea-kettle upon the crane, and filled it up with water; for Miss Anne had observed that, in cases of sudden sickness, hot water was one of the things most sure to be wanted.
After a short time, Lucy’s father and mother came in. After they had been with her a few minutes, her mother said,
“Don’t you think it is the croup?”
“No, I hope not,” said her father; “I presume it is only quinsy; but I am not sure, and perhaps I had better go for a doctor.”
After some further consultation, they concluded that it was best to call a physician. Lucy’s mother recommended that they should call up the hired man, and send him; but her father thought that it would take some time for him to get up and get ready, and that he had better go himself.
When he had gone, they brought in some hot water, and bathed Lucy’s feet. She liked this very much; but her breathing seemed to grow rather worse than better.
“What is the croup?” said Lucy to her mother, while her feet were in the water.
“It is a kind of sickness that children have sometimes suddenly in the night; but I hope you are not going to have it.”
“No, mother,” said Lucy; “I think it is only the quinsy.”
Lucy did not know at all what the quinsy was; but her sickness did not seem to her to be any thing very bad; and so she agreed with her father that it was probably only the quinsy.