Mrs. Kent consented, and Fanny, after sending in her bouquet, went for a physician whose name she had seen on a fine house near Central Park, judging from the style in which he lived that he must be a great man. She found him at home, and he consented to return with her to Mrs. Kent's house. He examined Jenny very carefully, and prescribed some medicine which might make her more comfortable. He did not pretend that he could do anything more for her, and he told Fanny that the sufferer could not live many days, and might pass away in a few hours. Fanny offered him his fee; he blushed, and peremptorily refused it. Physicians who live in fine houses are often kinder to the poor than the charlatans who prey upon the lowest strata of society.
Fanny procured the medicine which the kind-hearted doctor had prescribed, and administered it with her own hands. Jenny gave her such a sweet smile of grateful encouragement, that she was sorry there was nothing else to be done for her.
"Now sit down, Fanny, and let me take your hand. I feel better to-night than I have felt for a long time."
"I am glad you do," replied Fanny.
"You have made me so happy!"
"I wish I was as good as you are, Jenny," said Fanny, struggling with the emotions which surged through her soul.
"You are better than I am."
"O, no!"
"You are an angel! You have been as good as you could be. Fanny, we shall meet in heaven, for I feel just as though I could not live many days. We shall be friends there, if we cannot long be here."
"I hope you will get better," added Fanny, because she could think of nothing else to say.