“Ye needn’t be afraid to take yer medicine,” said Mamma to her patient, coming to the bedside with a dose of the aforesaid “drops.” “‘Tain’t no part of my plans to let ye die. I intend to nurse ye through, but I tell ye plain that when ye’re better ye’ll have to settle this business with Franzy. When ye’re on yer feet agin, I’m goin’ to wash my hands of ye. But ye may not find Franz so easily got rid of, mind that.”
Realizing her helplessness, Leslie swallowed the drops and then lay back, pale and panting, upon her pillow. As the moments passed, she could feel the liquid coursing its way through her veins; her nerves ceased to quiver, a strange calm crept over her, her pulses throbbed quite steadily. She was very weak, but found herself able to think clearly.
Half an hour later, Doctor Bayless appeared upon the Francoise threshold, a small vial in his hand, a look of anxiety upon his countenance.
He pushed his way into the room, in spite of the less than half opened door, and Mamma’s lukewarm welcome. He seemed to notice neither. Still less did he concern himself with Papa and Franz, partaking of luncheon in the opposite corner of the room.
He addressed Mamma almost breathlessly.
Had the drops been administered?
Mamma replied in the affirmative.
Then he must see the patient at once. There had been a dangerous mistake. By some inadvertence he had exchanged two similar vials; he had given Mamma the wrong medicine. The result might prove fatal.
It was no time for parley or hesitation. Mamma promptly led the way to the inner room.