"I'm so 'fraid of the scarlet fever, doctor!" said Mrs. Marvel. "Do you think it's any thing like that?" she continued with much anxiety, turning upon Charley a look of deep maternal affection.
Dr. Elton felt of Charley's pulse, and looked at his tongue, and then wrote a prescription in silence.
"What do you think of him, doctor?" asked the father, much concerned.
"He's not dangerous, sir. Give him this, and if he should grow worse, send for me."
The doctor bowed and departed, and the fond parents sent off for the medicine. It was in the form of a very small dose of rhubarb, and poor Charley had to have his nose held tight, and the nauseous stuff poured down his throat. In the afternoon, when the doctor called, on being sent for, there were some slight febrile symptoms, consequent upon excitement and loss of rest. The medicine, contrary to his expectation, heightened, instead of allaying these; and long before nightfall he was summoned again to attend his little patient. Much to his surprise, he found him with a hot skin, flushed face, and quickened pulse. Mrs. Marvel was in a state of terrible alarm.
"I knew there was more the matter with him than you thought for, doctor!" said the mother, while Dr. Elton examined his patient. "You thought it was nothing, but I knew better. If you'd only prescribed last night, as I wanted you to, all this might have been saved."
"Don't be alarmed, madam," said the doctor, "there is nothing serious in this fever. It will soon subside."
Mrs. Marvel shook her head.
"It's the scarlet fever, doctor, I know it is!" said she, passionately, bursting into tears.
"Let me beg of you, madam, not to distress yourself. I assure you there is no danger!"