"But don't go, Letty!" sobbed Agnes. "Do stay all night. I am sure you ought to. I never can take care of Madge alone."
"You forget that I have Alick to attend to. He has been exposed just at the worst time to catch the disease; and I must be careful that he takes no cold, and does not eat any thing improper for him. If the fever cannot be kept off, at least it may be lightened by proper care."
"Yes; that is always the way," said Agnes. "Every one thinks of herself, and no one thinks or cares what becomes of me. I never saw such selfishness."
"Of whom did you think when you ran off with Mrs. Van Horn, looking after millinery, and left Madge to any one who chose to take care of her?" asked Letty, thoroughly exasperated. "Of whom did you think when you exposed my delicate little boy to the chance of mumps,—to say nothing of scarlet fever,—merely to gratify your own senseless curiosity about the fashions? You have always gone on, pleasing yourself and caring for nothing and nobody else, ever since you were born; and now you reap the consequences. It will be well if your self-pleasing does not cost the lives of two innocent children; for, to say nothing of this morning, it was nothing short of murder to expose Madge as you did yesterday."
Never, since Letty was a passionate little girl, had Agnes seen her so roused.
"I will do what I can for you," continued Letty, speaking more calmly; "but you must not expect me to leave my own boy to attend upon you. You had better send for your mother to come and stay with you."
"I know she won't come; and it won't do any good if she does," said Agnes, recovering herself. "I know she will die, and the baby, too; and Joe will say it is all my fault."
But Letty was beyond the reach of her voice; and she found herself compelled to attend to Madge.
When Joe came home, there was the usual scene of recrimination,—which, however, was cut shorter than common by his going after the doctor and Mrs. Train.
Madge was very ill from the first; and Dr. Woodman looked very grave when he saw her. In a few days the baby sickened. He had always been a sturdy little fellow; and every one hoped he might have the disease lightly; but the hope was destined to disappointment. The fever ran its course in a wonderfully short time; and in four days the little boy was in his coffin. On the same day with the baby, Alick came down, and was pronounced very ill.