“We have been so busy,” explained Sally recovering herself a little. “What shall I do? Her brother is dying in the Williamsburg Hospital.”
“What! Not Clifford?” cried Mrs. Owen and Peggy simultaneously.
“Yes; Dr. Cochran, who hath been appointed director-general of all the hospitals since Dr. Shippen resigned, hath just returned from a tour of inspection of the Southern division. At our hospital at Williamsburg he found Harriet’s brother, Clifford, who told him who he was. He was a prisoner, as we know, and was shot while trying to make his escape. The doctor promised to let his sister know of the matter as soon as he reached Philadelphia. He was too busy to come himself, but sent me. Oh, I ran every step of the way, and now she is not here.”
“No,” said Mrs. Owen. “She is not here. Oh, the poor boy!”
“Why, I have forgot his note,” exclaimed Sally. She drew an unsealed letter from the bosom of her gown and handed it to Mrs. Owen. The lady opened it at once.
“Come to me, Harriet,” she read, “if you wish to see your brother alive. I am dying, and I wish not to die alone in a strange land with none of my kinspeople near me. The doctor will find a way for you. Can write no more. Come!
“Clifford.”
“Would that the child had not been so hasty,” sighed the matron folding the missive thoughtfully. “And now what is to be done? We must let her know, of course. I will see Mr. Reed in the morning.”
“But ’twill be too late for her to go to him by the time she gets the word,” said Sally. “How long doth it take to send a letter to New York?”
“All of three days. More, if the roads are bad. I fear too that ’twill be too late, but it must be done.” Mrs. Owen let her head fall on her hand and sat in deep perplexity for a while. “Sally,” she said abruptly, “can the doctor be seen to-night?”