Tears started to Violet’s eyes as she turned toward her husband with a questioning, appealing look.
“I fear he is indeed not well,” returned the captain, moving toward the open door. “We will see what can be done for him.”
Violet followed. The captain lighted the gas and both went to the bedside. Ned was rolling and tumbling about the bed, muttering and occasionally calling out a few words in regard to the game he imagined himself playing.
“Ned, my son,” the captain said in soothing tones, “you are not at play now, but at home in your bed. Try to lie still and sleep quietly.”
The captain took the little hot hand in his as he spoke. He was surprised and alarmed at its heat, and that the little fellow did not seem to know where he was or who it was that spoke to him.
“Oh, Levis, the child is certainly very ill,” said Violet in low, trembling tones. “Would it not be well to ’phone for one of my doctor brothers? I am sure either of them would come promptly and cheerfully if he knew our boy was ill and we wanting advice for him.”
“I haven’t a doubt of it, dearest, and I will go at once to the ’phone,” replied the captain, leaving the room, while Violet leaned over her little son, smoothing the bedclothes and doing all she could to make him more comfortable.
At Ion most of the family had retired to rest, but Harold had lingered over some correspondence in the library, and was going quietly up the stairway when he heard the telephone bell. He went directly to the instrument, saying to himself a trifle regretfully:
“Somebody wanting the doctor, I suppose. Hello!” he called, and was instantly answered in Captain Raymond’s unmistakable voice: