Her flying feet thudded across the grass as Norah went back to the room where Geoffrey was already sleeping heavily. She looked down at the little face, flushed and dry; in her heart an agony of dread for the Mother, away at her party in London. Then she went outside to wait for her father.
He came quickly, accompanied by Miss de Lisle and Harry Trevor.
“I telephoned for the doctor directly I got your message,” he said. “He’ll be up in a few minutes.”
“Thank goodness!” said Norah. “Of course it may not be the fever. But it’s something queer.”
“The little chap wasn’t all right down at the river,” Harry said. “Only he kept going; he’s such a plucky kid. But he sat jolly quiet on me coming home.”
“I knew he was quiet; I just thought he was a bit tired,” Norah said. “I say, Daddy, what about the other children?”
“What about you?” he asked. His voice was hard with anxiety.
“Me?” said Norah, staring. “Why, of course I must stay with him, Dad. He’s in my charge.”
“Yes, I suppose you must,” said David Linton heavily. “We’ll find out from the doctor what precautions can be taken.”
“Oh, I’ll be all right,” Norah said. “But Alison and Michael mustn’t stay here.”