As she was turning to go into the house she met Miriam, whose face was anxious. “Oh, there you are,” Miriam began. “I wish you would go up to Dare. They can’t make him drink the things you left for him. Now he’s arguing with Aunt Denise, who says he’s in a fever. He says he’s not, and he’s saying it with feverish intensity.”
Louise gave a start. “Miriam! Papa had two cases of smallpox a few weeks ago. Those Grays, you know,—down the river.”
“Wasn’t it one of the Gray girls that Dare rescued the day we went to Deer Spring? She had climbed a tree and couldn’t get down.”
They hurried upstairs. “You wait here,” Louise ordered, leaving Miriam at the door of the bedroom.
“Thank God it’s you,” said a half delirious voice, as she appeared, and Dare sank back into bed.
Louise made a rapid diagnosis, then turned to Aunt Denise. “I think it’s smallpox,” she whispered. “Will you fumigate the nursery? You’ll find everything in the medicine chest. I’ll have him moved to one of the cabins. Je sais ce qu’il faut faire.”
There was no timorousness in Aunt Denise. A competent, strong woman herself, she took competence and strength and a stern sense of duty for granted in any member of her family.
When she had gone Louise went to the door to report to Miriam. “Get somebody to take a few blankets over to your old cabin. Then find Mr. Brown and have him send up some sort of stretcher. Mrs. Brown will help you straighten the cabin and build a fire to air it. Then telephone Papa.”
“What are you going to do?” Miriam ventured.
“Nurse. There’s no one else. Besides he wouldn’t obey a stranger. You won’t mind keeping an eye on the house, will you? Don’t let Aunt Denise be too thrifty. Above all, keep Keble from fretting. He rears like a horse when he’s frightened.”