“Yes. She wouldn't leave him. She seemed 'most as crazy's he was. My wife and me, we—”
But Parker did not wait to hear the rest. He ran at full speed to the door of the shanty. Grace herself opened it.
“How is he?” demanded the doctor.
“I think he seems a little easier; at any rate, he's not delirious. He's in there. Oh, I'm so thankful you've come.”
“Is that the doctor?” called Ellery weakly from the next room. “Is it?”
“Yes,” replied Parker, throwing off his coat and hat. “Coming, Mr. Ellery.”
“For God's sake, doctor, send her away. Don't let her stay. Make her go. Make her GO! I've got the smallpox and if she stays she will die. Don't you understand? she MUST go.”
“Hush, John,” said Grace soothingly. “Hush, dear.”
Dr. Parker stopped short and looked at her. She returned the look, but without the slightest semblance of self-consciousness or embarrassment. She did not realize that she had said anything unusual, which must sound inexplicably strange to him. Her thoughts were centered in that adjoining room and she wondered why he delayed.
“Well?” she asked impatiently. “What is it? Why do you wait?”