“How do you do to-night, my dear?” asked the elderly lady, who laid down her work and regarded Hesper with great interest.
“Quite well, I thank you,” replied the poor girl, though her pale face and sorrowful eyes seemed to tell a very different story. “It’s my brother that’s sick ma’am. Poor Johnny! he’s a simple child, but then we all love him so much, that it troubles us sadly when anything ails him.”
“What! Johnny sick!” said the doctor, who just then entered the room—“and how long has that been?”
“Ever since the night he was lost in the wood, sir. We did not wish to trouble you while we could do anything ourselves, but indeed, he has grown sick very fast, and I hope you will not take it amiss that I have come for you, for there was no one else to whom I dared go.”
“You have done just right, exactly,” said the doctor in a most encouraging manner, “and I shall be right glad to render you every possible service. I will go with you directly”—and he went out to get his hat and coat.
Kate, the eldest daughter, also stepped out of the room. She soon returned with a very pretty silk hood in her hand. “Here, Hesper,” she said, “this is too small for me, and if it will be of any service to you, you shall be right welcome.” As she spoke, she stooped down, and loosening the handkerchief under Hesper’s chin, she tied the hood upon her head in its place. The poor girl, worn down by watching and anxiety, had come to the doctor’s house with many misgivings, and thus to meet with such unexpected favor and kindness quite overcame her. She could not speak, but the great tears, more eloquent than words, chased each other swiftly down her cheeks.
“Dear girl!” said the elderly lady as she took off her spectacles and wiped her eyes—“if there were more in the world like you, I should want to spend all my life time in doing good.”
When the Doctor was ready, and Hesper arose to depart, the young ladies followed her to the door, assuring her that they should be happy to assist her in every possible way, and promised to call next morning and see how little Johnny got along.
Upon arriving at the house, the doctor found the poor child tossing to and fro upon his bed, in a small, close room, adjoining the kitchen. It was a miserable place, but it was the best that could be afforded. Mrs. Greyson lay upon her own bed in a corner of the kitchen, and her husband sat by the fire in one chair, with his foot resting upon another. Aunt Nyna, who was always a friend in need, was moving quietly about with her usual placid look, making everything as neat and orderly as possible, while Mrs. Grimsby, who had just brought in a bowl of nice warm gruel for Mrs. Greyson’s supper, was seated by Johnny’s bed-side. Fred and Charlie had been sent up to bed some time previous, but contrary to the supposition of all, instead of being fast asleep, they were then sitting mid-way of the stairs, shivering with cold, but listening intently to all that was passing below. Hesper regarded the doctor anxiously as he took Johnny’s hand in his own. The poor child’s face was crimson with fever—he moaned and tossed about constantly, and seemed to be insensible to all around. The doctor shook his head doubtfully.
“He is very sick,” he said. “Can you tell me what you have done for him?”