The building was long and low roofed, built after the Southern fashion with wide halls and broad galleries running the entire length of the house. It looked very inviting even to Jeanne who hovered protectingly over her brother.
“She shan’t misuse Dick,” she declared, over and over again. “She shan’t harm him.”
Dick was carried carefully into a large room and placed in a clean white bed. A bright fire blazed upon the hearth and its heat was very welcome after the ride in the chill November air.
The boy, exhausted from his suffering and weak from loss of blood, fainted as they placed him on the couch and Mr. Vance hurriedly summoned a physician. Jeanne found herself pushed to one side while Mr. and Madame Vance worked over the unconscious lad, but when she saw that their ministrations were for his benefit she was content that it should be so.
The most unremitting attention and constant care were what the boy required declared the physician when he had made an examination. The long ride in the rough car and exposure to chill, rendered the best of nursing imperative.
“If he does not have it he will die,” he said. “Or if his wound breaks out afresh it will be fatal.”
“He shall not die,” cried Madame, with an adorable air of concern. “I will care for him myself, doctor. He shall have the best of care.”
“I do not doubt it, Madame, with you for his attendant,” said the physician, gallantly. “I leave him in good hands.”
Jeanne saw with gratitude that Madame Vance did really give the best of care to her brother, and she gladly forgave the treatment to which she had been subjected. Occasionally she even forgot her intention of calling her aunt “Aunt Clarisse,” and the old “Cherie,” came to her lips.
“Ole missus done got huh claws on yer ergain,” Snowball said to Jeanne one morning. The negro girl had been enthusiastic in her greetings. “I wuz moughty sorry ter see yer kum back ter huh ergain.”