"Claudina would come too," she said, "but two of the boys are sick, and I'm afraid she is taking the fever herself."
"It seems as if everybody is taking it," said Rupert. "Mrs. Chetwood, is it often so sickly here?"
"Never was known to be quite so bad before," she answered; "they say the oldest inhabitant doesn't remember such a time. Do you notice how quiet and empty the streets are?"
"Yes, ma'am; people seem to be very late in getting up. The stores are all shut up still."
"There's no business doing at all," she returned, "and people are not up because they're ill; too ill, most of them, to leave their beds.
"There are not many houses in town where more than one or two are able to crawl about to help themselves or wait on the sick.
"And Dr. Grange tells me it is just as bad in the country. The harvest is uncommonly fine, but there's nobody to gather it in; there are loads of wild berries ripe on the bushes, but nobody able to pick them.
"Emmaretta Lightcap died yesterday; I was there last night and helped to lay her out. All the rest of the family are in bed with the fever, except poor Gotobed and his mother.
"Oh, it's a sorrowful time! Effie and one or two of the little ones are sick at Mr. Prescott's, and in the next house not one of the family is able to be out of bed."
Mr. Keith was quite as ill as his wife feared.