Aunt Elizabeth rolled up the white cotton blind and looked at Emily. She noted her flushed face—she felt her pulse. Then she bade her shortly to stay where she was, went down, and sent Perry for Dr. Burnley.
“Probably she’s got the measles,” said the doctor as gruffly as usual. Emily was not yet sick enough to be gentle over. “There’s an outbreak of them at Derry Pond. Has she had any chance to catch them?”
“Jimmy Joe Belle’s two children were here one afternoon about ten days ago. She played with them—she’s always playing round with people she’s no business to associate with. I haven’t heard that they were or have been sick though.”
Jimmy Joe Belle, when asked plainly, confessed that his “young ones” had come out with measles the very day after they had been at New Moon. There was therefore not much doubt as to Emily’s malady.
“It’s a bad kind of measles apparently,” the doctor said. “Quite a number of the Derry Pond children have died of it. Mostly French though—the kids would be out of bed when they had no business to be and caught cold. I don’t think you need worry about Emily. She might as well have measles and be done with it. Keep her warm and keep the room dark. I’ll run over in the morning.”
For three or four days nobody was much alarmed. Measles was a disease everybody had to have. Aunt Elizabeth looked after Emily well and slept on a sofa which had been moved into the lookout. She even left the window open at night. In spite of this—perhaps Aunt Elizabeth thought because of it—Emily grew steadily sicker, and on the fifth day a sharp change for the worse took place. Her fever went up rapidly, delirium set in; Dr. Burnley came, looked anxious, scowled, changed the medicine.
“I’m sent for to a bad case of pneumonia at White Cross,” he said, “and I have to go to Charlottetown in the morning to be present at Mrs. Jackwell’s operation. I promised her I would go. I’ll be back in the evening. Emily is very restless—that high-strung system of hers is evidently very sensitive to fever. What’s that nonsense she’s talking about the Wind Woman?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Aunt Elizabeth worriedly. “She’s always talking nonsense like that, even when she’s well. Allan, tell me plainly—is there any danger?”
“There’s always danger in this type of measles. I don’t like these symptoms—the eruption should be out by now and there’s no sign of it. Her fever is very high—but I don’t think we need be alarmed yet. If I thought otherwise I wouldn’t go to town. Keep her as quiet as possible—humour her whims if you can—I don’t like that mental disturbance. She looks terribly distressed—seems to be worrying over something. Has she had anything on her mind of late?”
“Not that I know of,” said Aunt Elizabeth. She had a sudden bitter realisation that she really did not know much about the child’s mind. Emily would never have come to her with any of her little troubles and worries.