Then [Mrs. Flint] and the doctor had their hands full with the two patients.
They ignored the strange woman until Mr. Dawn had been quieted and removed to his bed, where the doctor kept him quiescent by the use of opiates while he turned his attention to his other charge.
“Who is she? Where did she come from? I’ve never seen her face around here,” he said curiously to Mrs. Flint, who replied by confiding in him all that she knew, which, of course, threw no light upon the mystery; so without more ado they set to work to restore the poor creature to life.
It was a serious undertaking, and lasted until the gray dawn of another dreary day glimmered in through the windows of the sitting-room.
Then the woman lay asleep, having recovered sufficiently to open her eyes, stare at them uncomprehendingly, and to swallow some broth with the avidity produced by starvation.
“Poor soul! it is the want of food that has brought her to this pass. See how flabby her flesh is, and how loosely it hangs on her large frame! Look at her shabby, worn clothing, not much better than a tramp’s; and her broken shoes, how pitiful. It is doubtful if she survives even after the long spell of sickness that threatens her,” said the doctor.
“Good land, doctor, a long spell, you say? Why, what are you going to do about it? Can’t she be sent to the almshouse?”
“‘I was a stranger, and ye took me in!’” quoted the old physician, reverently.
The old lady thus referred to her bible, muttered repentantly:
“Lord, forgive my hardness of heart! I’ll do the best I can, Doctor Savoy; but I’m an old woman, and the nursing will go hard with me, you see, along with my other troubles.”