"Won't you come up and look at my Willy?" she at length said, in a tremulous voice.
"Certainly, ma'am," replied Mrs. Darlington, rising immediately. "What do you think ails your little boy?"
"I don't know, ma'am; but I'm afraid of scarlet fever—that dreadful disease."
Mrs. Darlington went up to the chamber of Mrs. Marion. On the bed lay Willy, his face flushed with fever, and his eyes wearing a glassy lustre.
"Do you feel sick, my dear?" asked Mrs. Darlington, as she laid her hand on his burning forehead.
"Yes, ma'am," replied the child.
"There are you sick?"
"My head aches."
"Is your throat sore?"
"Yes, ma'am."