I hailed the vehicle, intending to ask for a ride, but when Taylor discovered who his hailer was he insisted on my going back to the house. He would get the doctor, he said, and bring him down at once. I was afraid he would be caught in the storm, and hesitated in accepting the offer, but he insisted. I did go back to the house, found Mother in much the same condition as when I left her, and had scarcely gotten into the kitchen again when Taylor once more appeared.
“I brought Nellie along to stay with your mother,” he said. “The Cap'n and the old lady”—meaning Matilda—“were up at the meeting-house and we just left a note saying where we'd gone. Nellie's all right. Between you and me, she don't talk you deaf, dumb and blind like her ma, and she's good company for sick folks. Now I'll fetch the doctor and be right back.”
“But it's raining pitchforks,” I said. “You'll be wet through.”
“No, I won't. I'll have Doc Quimby here in no time.”
He drove off and Nellie Dean went into Mother's room. I had always considered Nellie a milk-and-watery young female, but somehow her quiet ways and soft voice seemed just what were needed in a sick room. I left the two together and came out to wait for Taylor and the doctor.
But they did not come. The storm was under full headway now, and the wind was dashing the rain in sheets against the windows. I waited nearly an hour and still no sign of the doctor.
Nellie came out of Mother's room and closed the door softly behind her.
“She's quiet now,” she whispered. “I think she's asleep. Where do you suppose George is?”
“Goodness knows!” I answered. “I shouldn't have let him go, a night like this.”
“I'm afraid you couldn't stop him if his mind was made up. He's dreadful determined when he sets out to be.”