CHAPTER XXXIII.
MARION IS HAPPY.
“Them tiger-cats has got somethin’ to answer for,” Mrs. Jones said fiercely, “ef they’ve given that poor lamb laudlum enough to hurt her!”
“There must be some antidote for it,” said Marion, whose white lips trembled so with fear that she could hardly speak. “I will have a doctor if you will tell me whom to have. Surely he wouldn’t tell anyone about Elfie if you asked him not to.”
“Doctor Mitchell wouldn’t tell any thing we didn’t want him to,” said Mrs. Jones; “but we’ll try something ourselves first. Strong coffee is a good wake-up, I’ve heard tell; so’s ginger tea and foot-baths.”
But all of the home remedies failed to do much good. Elfie waked frequently as they pursued their kindly efforts, but took very little notice of any thing. Once, indeed, as she sat on Mrs. Jones’s lap with her feet in a basin of hot water, she looked down at the little jersey trousers that were part of her disguise; she shuddered and moaned:
“O, take those things off, take them off!”
Then the lethargy overcame her again.
“I am going over home,” said Mrs. Jones, with tears in her eyes, “to bring in a little night-gown from the clothes I put away in a trunk when my little Sarah Jane died ten years ago. It’s homely and old-fashioned, but it’s more decent for a little girl than pants and jacket, and then I guess I better have Dr. Mitchell come in and take a look. He’s safe, safe and sure; you needn’t be feared of him.”
The doctor’s coming to see a sick little girl caused no surprise to clerk and landlord, for they supposed it was Marion herself, who, the chamber-maid had told them, was ill and had sent for Mrs. Jones. Marion liked Dr. Mitchell at once; there was something about the very tones of his voice that gave her confidence, but she watched him anxiously as he carefully examined Elfie and asked a few questions which Marion was not afraid to answer, although to account for the condition in which he found the child she was obliged to tell something of their experience for the last two days.