"That's right, Dorrie; just a little water, so we can have it at once; then set the other kettle on, and fill it half full, and as soon as it heats fill up. And, Dorrie, get a tub; run for blankets. But, first, where's a spoon?"
"Have you the medicine that you use?" This to the mother, for she was back again beside her.
"No," said Mrs. Morgan again in that same distressed tone; "I haven't anything."
Then Louise produced her package, and untied it with rapid fingers.
"This is what my mother uses for my little sister."
Mrs. Morgan, senior, seized the bottle, gave one glance at the label, and returned it with a brief, decisive sentence, "Give her some."
And the already secured spoon was promptly produced and the medicine dropped, none too soon, for it was growing momently harder for Nellie to swallow anything.
Don't you know just how they worked, those three women, for the next hour, over that child? If I write for those who have had no experience in such suffering, where there is such dire need of haste, and where all remedies at times are utter failures, blessed are they, although Louise blessed the past hours of experience that had given her knowledge and skill for this night. Both were needed, for Mrs. Morgan's usually cold nerves were trembling, and a terrible fear of what might be coming blanched her face, and made her limbs tremble beneath her. She gave herself unresistingly to the lead of Louise and Dorothy; for Dorothy, the moment she found something to do, sprung into action and energy, and the hot water bath was ready almost before it had seemed possible.
Nellie, in the midst of her sufferings, had strength to greet Louise's coming with a smile; and, although it was hard work to speak at all, murmured, as the face of her sister recalled the earlier events of the afternoon, "He took me."
"What does she say?" asked the mother, her voice sharpened with pain.