“They’re in the lower bureau drawer,” she said in a hard voice. And we went out.
When the doctor came that day Tish waylaid him in the lower hall. And he said Emmie Hartford could get out of bed and do a day’s washing any minute she had a mind to. But he said also that if he told her so she would only shop around for another doctor, who would tell her she had something seriously wrong with her. He had not been paid for a long time, but he did not mind that as much as the way she made him lose his sleep.
“My wife says,” he stated, “that she seems to know the minute I’ve taken my trousers off. I don’t know when I’ve slept a night through. Why, if you’ll believe me, the alarm clock in the kitchen went off at two o’clock the other morning and I got up in my sleep and was out to the cemetery here before I wakened.”
Well, after he had gone we sent Emmie a nice lunch, and soon after, she began to call the dog. But Tish had fed him and shut him in a closet and once more she had to send her tray down untouched. She was in a villainous temper by that time and the nurse came down about four P.M. and said there was something queer about her. She just lay in bed and stared hard at her. And when she had told her she was going to put on a fresh uniform before Will got home, Emmie had called her something that sounded like a hussy.
But if Emmie’s condition was worse, Will’s was distinctly better. He ate a real meal that evening, and, instead of hurrying up to her afterward, he sat for a little while in the sitting room. We had brought along some blackberry cordial, and he sipped it with appreciation.
“I was making some right good moonshine myself a while back,” he said. “I bought a still, you know, and I gave the doctor some one night. He turned his car over on his way back into town and broke his arm. But the smell annoyed Emmie, so I had to give it up.”
Well, Miss Smith came in for a few minutes, too; she seemed glad to relax for once. But pretty soon Emmie’s bell began to ring and she had to go up. It was no time at all before she came running down the stairs with a thermometer in her hand and a scared look on her face.
“You’d better come up at once, Mr. Hartford,” she said. “She’s got a terrible fever.”
“How high is it?” asked Will, beginning to tremble.
“About as high as it can be,” said Miss Smith, looking worried. “I’ve telephoned to the doctor, and he says to use a cold pack. But she won’t have it.”