Kitty hurried past her into Billy’s little room. He lay on the bed, his round cheeks red, his mouth open as he struggled for breath. In a moment she was sitting on the bed, bending over him.
“Where do you feel bad, darling?”
His little hand went to his throat. Terrified she thought of diphtheria. “Why didn’t you tell me you felt bad before I went off?” she chided.
He only moaned and tossed his head restlessly.
“I done call yo’ Pah, honey. He’s comin’ right home,” said Jane.
“Thanks, Jane. It’s nice to have someone so dependable.”
“I’ll take a look at that throat,” said Brad, “as soon as I wash my hands.”
“Get him a fresh towel, Jane.”
Kitty turned the bedside lamp on the flushed little face when Brad came back. She had already sent for a spoon to hold his tongue down. After one glance inside that swollen throat Brad said, “Um, badly inflamed. We’ve got to do something about this.”
He and Kitty exchanged anxious glances. They heard steps running up the porch, and a moment later Mr. Carter was with them.