So they left her with Jessie, who, fascinated by the sweet young face, knelt by the lounge, and, laying her curly head caressingly against Madeline’s arm, aid to her, “Poor girl, you’re sick, and I’m so sorry. What makes you sick?”
There was genuine sympathy in that little voice, and with a cry as of sudden pain, Maddy clasped the child in her arms and burst into a wild fit of weeping, which did her a great deal of good. Forgetting that Jessie could not understand, and feeling it a relief to tell her grief to some one, she said, in reply to Jessie’s repeated inquiries as to what was the matter, “I did not get a certificate, and I wanted it so much, for we are poor, and our house is mortgaged, and I was going to help grandpa pay it; and now I never can, and the house must be sold.”
“It’s dreadful to be poor!” sighed little Jessie, as her fingers threaded the soft, nut-brown hair resting in her lap, where Maddy had laid her aching head.
Maddy did not know who this beautiful child was, but her sympathy was very sweet, and they talked together confidingly, as children will, until Mrs. Agnes’ voice was heard calling to her little girl that it was time to go.
“I love you, Maddy, and I mean to tell brother Guy all about it,” Jessie said, as she wound her arms round Madeline’s neck and kissed her at parting.
It never occurred to Maddy to ask her name, she felt so stupefied and bewildered, and with a responsive kiss she sent her away. Then leaning her head upon the table, she forgot everything but her own wretchedness, and so did not see the gayly-dressed, haughty-looking lady who swept past the door, accompanied by Guy and Dr. Holbrook. Neither did she hear, or notice, if she did, the hum of their voices, as they talked together for a moment, Agnes asking the doctor very prettily to come up to Aikenside while she was there, and enliven her a little. Engaged young men like Guy were so stupid, she said, as with a merry laugh she sprang into the carriage; and, bowing gracefully to the doctor, was driven rapidly toward Aikenside.
Rather slowly the doctor returned to the office, and after fidgeting for a time among the powders and phials, summoned courage to ask Madeline how she felt, and if any of the fainting symptoms had returned.
“No, sir,” was all the reply she gave him, never lifting up her head, or even thinking which of the two young men it was speaking to her.
There was a call just then for Dr. Holbrook; and leaving his office in charge of Tom, he went away, feeling slightly uncomfortable whenever he thought of the girl, to whom he knew that justice had not been done.
“I half wish I had examined her myself,” he said. “Of course she was excited, and could not answer; beside, hanged if I don’t believe it was all humbug tormenting her with Greek and Latin and logic. Guy is such a stupid; I’ll question her myself when I get back, and if she’ll possibly pass, give her the certificate. Poor child! how white she was, and what a queer look there was in those great eyes, when she said, ‘I shall not take it.’”