“Poor father, I hope she won’t die!”
The father hoped so too, but as the hours wore on and the fever increased, those who saw her, shook their heads doubtingly, saying with one accord:
“She must have help soon, or it will come too late.”
“Help from where? Tell me. Whom shall I get? Where shall I go?” John asked, and the answer was always the same. “If Dr. West could come, but I suppose he can’t!”
“He can! he shall!!” Johnnie exclaimed, as the house seemed filled with Dora’s delirious ravings. “Father and that Mr. West can bring him in a chair! He shall!” and Johnnie rushed across the street, nearly upsetting Mrs. West in his headlong haste, and bursting upon Richard with the exclamation, “She’ll die! she is dying, and you shall go! You must,—you will! We’ll take you in this big chair!” and Johnnie wound his arm around the doctor’s neck, while he begged of him to go and save Aunt Dora.
At first the doctor hesitated, but when his brother also joined in the boy’s request, he said, “I’ll go.”
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE SHADOWS OF DEATH.
It was a novel sight to see the little procession which half an hour later left Mrs. Markham’s house and moved across the street. Wrapped in a blanket and reclining in the huge arm-chair which Squire John, his coachman, and Robert West were carrying was Dr. West, while behind him walked his mother, with Johnnie and Jim and Burt and Ben bringing up the rear.
“I think I had better go in alone. Too many may disturb her,” Richard suggested, as, supported by his brother and the Squire, he reached the upper hall and turned towards Dora’s chamber.