Mrs. Pepper was busy with the doctor in the further part of the room, and Polly stood quite still for a moment, wishing she were one of the maids, to whom a bit of active service was given. She could not longer endure her thoughts in silence, and gently going up to her mother's side, with a timorous glance at the bed, as she passed it, she begged, "Mamsie, can't I do something for her?"
Mrs. Pepper glanced up quickly. "No—yes, you can; take this prescription down to Oakley's to be prepared."
Polly seized the bit of paper from Dr. Valentine's hand, and hurried out. Again she glanced fearfully at the bed, but the curtain on that side was drawn so that only the outline of the figure could be seen. She was soon out on the street, the movement through the fresh air bringing back a little color to her cheek and courage to her heart. Things did not seem quite so bad if she only might do something for the poor sick woman that could atone for the wretched work she had done; at least it would be some comfort if the invalid could be helped by her service.
Thus revolving everything in her mind, Polly did not hear her name called, nor rapid footsteps hurrying after.
"Wait!" at last cried a voice; "O, dear me! what is the matter, Polly?"
Alexia Rhys drew herself up flushed and panting at Polly's side.
"I'm on the way to the apothecary's," said Polly, without looking around.
"So I should suppose," said Alexia; "O, dear! I'm so hot and tired. Do go a bit slower, Polly."
"I can't," said Polly. "She's very sick, and I must get this just as soon as I can." She waved the prescription at her, and redoubled her speed.
"Who?" gasped Alexia, stumbling after as best she could.
"Mrs. Chatterton," said Polly, a lump in her throat as she uttered the name.