“But if he is a gentleman, how came you here, Alice Lorraine?” cried her mother.
“I haven’t been here long, and—how could he know it! Look at him, will you!” the girl cried. But her mother continued to look sternly upon her.
“He went away,” the girl forced herself to explain. “He was coming back before he went West where he lives now. He didn’t come and—I was afraid something had—happened. I came down this afternoon to look once more and found him—just so. O Mr. Langley, is he dying, do you think?”
“I shouldn’t judge so. I should say he was in the early stage of a fever. He is terribly emaciated. He looks starved. The doctor will be here shortly. Meantime let me see if I can loosen his clothing a bit.”
As he bent over the couch, Alice’s heart went out to him. He seemed so gentle and tender though he had no idea the man was not a stranger and probably believed him to be a tramp. As he put his arm beneath the sick man’s shoulders to change his position, the latter opened his eyes wide. Mr. Langley started but finished what he was about.
The doctor came up and Mrs. Lorraine and Alice went below. After some little time Mr. Langley joined them.
“It is probably pneumonia, or will be within a few hours,” he announced. “Dr. Porter will send for the ambulance and have him taken to the hospital at Wenham where he will have the best of care.”
He turned to Alice with a kind look.
“O mother, couldn’t we take him into the cottage and take care of him?” cried the girl beseechingly. “He is good and—O, so unfortunate, and—O if you knew something I know, you couldn’t refuse. And—if Mr. Langley knew—something else, he would beg you to.”
Mr. Langley looked at the girl with an odd expression on his face.