“Land alive!” cried the little man, delighted at the smile, and getting cheerier than ever. “You’ve set us all an example in grit and endurance. Now, don’t be like a cow that gives a good pail of milk and then kicks it all over,” and he laughed again. “That’s New England advice; you know I was raised on a farm,” he added.
“I’ve had my death-blow in this fever,” said Roslyn, the smile dying all out, and turning his face on the pillow. “We shall only be separated again; for Mr. King will never”—
The little doctor sprang to his side. He had fainted. And in the next few days, when the fever came back again, each one looked into the other’s face with despair. All except Phronsie herself.
“Oh, I cannot endure it!” It was Charlotte Chatterton who said this. Charlotte, who had just come, walking in suddenly, with no word of greeting, or expecting any. She just went up to Mother Fisher, and put her two hands into the firm ones extended.
“Hush!” said Mother Fisher through white lips. “You will say something you will be sorry for afterward, maybe, Charlotte.”
Charlotte bit her lip. “Let me help; give me something to do,” she begged. “No, I don’t want to go to Phronsie yet; it would kill me to see her suffer. I cannot bear it, dear Mrs. Fisher.”
“Charlotte, could you leave your lessons?” asked Mother Fisher suddenly.
“Yes,” said Charlotte, “it was no use for me to stay away; I got so nervous I couldn’t sing; and even Herr Mericke said I best take a little time off, and come and see for myself how you were getting on. And then Ben’s last letter told me that things were worse than you had reported. And so here I am;” and she drew a long sigh.
“Charlotte, you don’t know how I have wanted you,” said Mrs. Fisher, drawing her to her side.
“Have you?” cried Charlotte delightedly. “Oh! if I had only known how badly things were going, I should have dropped everything and come before.”