"His imprisonment was too much for him," said Aunt Clarissa. "We should have watched him more closely."
A delirious moan showed that some immediate action must be taken.
"Here, you, lift him up and take him to his room—poor boy! How did he get out?" said Aunt Clarissa, noticing that the right arm was still supported in the black silk neckerchief.
In a few minutes George, moaning feebly, was ensconced in the pillows not long ago left vacant by his brother. It was evident that he was suffering from exposure. He was in a raging fever.
A man was despatched at once for the doctor, but it would be some hours before he could return.
"Now, all of you, off to bed," said Aunt Clarissa. "I will watch him."
"Won't you let me stay, Mistis?" murmured Aunt Polly, tearfully. "I'll promise not to go to sleep."
"Out of my sight!" said Aunt Clarissa, sternly. "I would not trust you to watch a boiling kettle. Out of my sight, you viper!"
Mrs. Frothingham's solicitude for her nephew was something new and strange, but, nevertheless, the servants slunk away.
Aunt Clarissa, however, had not forgotten to thank Adam Bent Knee or the men whom he had called from the foundry settlement to assist him in carrying the litter. The old Indian had related none of the circumstances, merely stating he had found George in the snow.