“No, no, it’s not about me. It’s this way. Papa’s gone, ever so long ago. He’s gone to the station, and I think he was going to see the doctor on the way. And mamma and nurse are shut up in the night-nursery with baby, not to be disturbed by nobody,” said Leigh, forgetting his grammar in his distress. “I saw Emma, but she’s no good, she’d only tell stories to keep herself from being scolded. But I do think she looks frightened about baby. Oh dear, what shall I do? Darling Baby Dolly, and it’s all my fault. I see it now;” and Leigh flung himself on to the floor and burst out sobbing again.
“Leigh, Leigh, poor Leigh,” said Mary and Artie together.
“Mr Fibbetts will be coming,” said Mary in a moment, “and then I’ll have to go out with Emma. Oh, I don’t want to go.”
Leigh looked up.
“Mr Phillips won’t be coming,” he said, “I forgot. Everything’s been so strange to-day. It’s Saturday, Mary. He doesn’t come on Saturdays. You shan’t go out with Emma if you don’t want. She’s a untrue bad girl; it’s a good deal her fault, though she’s not been half so wicked as me.”
“You’ve not been wicked, dear Leigh. You didn’t mean any harm,” sobbed Mary.
“And we’ve all been naughty for not telling,” added Artie.
“Oh, but what are we to do?” cried Leigh again. “The doctor’ll be coming and he won’t know, and p’raps he’ll give Dolly the wrong medicines with not knowing, and baby will get worser and worser. Oh, what shall we do?”
“I know,” said Mary, in a clear, decided voice, which made both her brothers look at her in surprise. “We’ll hide somewhere, so that we can jump out when the doctor passes and tell him. So then he must know what to do for Dolly. Where shall we hide, Leigh?”
Leigh stopped crying to consider.