“Yes, he has got it bad. 'Ain't stirred out of his bed since night before last; been all alone; nobody knew it till William Berry went in this forenoon. Guess he'd died there if he'd been left much longer.”
“Who's with him now?” asked Charlotte, in a quick, strained voice.
“The Ray boy is sittin' with him, whilst William is gone to the North Village to see if he can get somebody to come. There's a widow woman over there that goes out nussin', Silas said, an' they hope they can get her. The doctor says he's got to have somebody.”
“Rebecca can't do anything, of course,” said Sarah, meditatively; “he 'ain't got any of his own folks to come, poor feller.”
Charlotte crossed the kitchen floor with a resolute air.
“What are you goin' to do, Charlotte?” her mother asked in a trembling voice.
Charlotte turned around and faced her father and mother. “I shouldn't think you'd ask me,” said she.
“You ain't—goin'—over—?”
“Of course I am going over there. Do you suppose I am going to let him lie there and suffer all alone, with nobody to take care of him?”
“There's—the woman—comin'.”