"You bet!" he returned with grave emphasis—and with this assurance, Alma sought Edith's room.
Entering, she stepped quietly to the bedside.
Edith lay motionless, her eyes wide open, staring fixedly at the ceiling. Two hectic spots burned in her cheeks. Slowly she turned her gaze toward Alma.
Not once in these long hours, had she asked for George. The doctor advised them to avoid any mention of his name. She was not delirious, but a little might make her so.
Alma took Edith's hand and stroked it gently.
"You will be all right again very soon, dear."
Edith smiled sadly. "No, Alma dear, I will not be well again. I have not long to live. Will you do something for me quickly?"
"O, Edith, don't talk that way?" exclaimed Alma, greatly distressed. "You know I would not deceive you. The doctor says you are doing wonderfully."
"Yes, Alma, but the doctor does not know all. I'm glad to die, dear,—and God will use me on the other side for His great work." She paused in her weakness, and then continued, "Alma, don't lose one moment. I want Betty. Don't get me a nurse. I want Betty. I'm going soon, and Howard—send for him too."
"Edith dear," persisted Alma gently, "you're not going to leave us; do put that thought from you. But I'll have Betty here before night, and Howard too."