"If it's to be done, they'll do it," Meg returned, confidently.
At last the poor little fellow was dressed, and Meg, taking him up in her strong arms, carried him downstairs, Elsie following. They found Mrs. Donaldson talking rapidly to the man in the shop. Both stopped short when Meg and Elsie entered, and Mrs. Donaldson beckoned Meg to follow her into the room behind, where she talked for some minutes in low tones to the girl, who presently propped Duncan up in a chair, and called Elsie to hold him there while she went and fetched her hat and tidied herself up.
Soon after a fly drove up to the door, into which, by Mrs. Donaldson's directions, Meg carried Duncan, Mrs. Donaldson and Elsie following. The next minute they drove off, but slowly, on Duncan's account.
As they went along Mrs. Donaldson gave Meg many directions. "You must say the child is homeless," she said kindly, "and wait till you have heard what the doctor says. I dare not take him in myself; I cannot spare the time. If they will not let Effie stay, take her back with you, and let her go every day to see him. Be sure to tell Andrew to write and let me know how he gets on."
All these things Meg promised, and Elsie began to think that, after all, she had thought too badly of the "fairy mother." Perhaps Meg had herself made up the tale she had told about Lucy Murdoch, and was not to be trusted. When once they were in the hospital, Elsie had made up her mind that she would tell the people there the whole truth, and beg them to write to Mrs. MacDougall. Perhaps she would come to Edinburgh and fetch them home. That would be the end of all their troubles. How glad she would be to come to the end of them, even though it meant going back to the old quiet hum-drum life. After all, Duncan had been really the wiser when he wanted her to write to their father instead of going to find him. She wished now she had done it.
While she was thinking of all this the carriage stopped in a busy street. "Effie and I will go first," Mrs. Donaldson said to Meg. "I will just speak to the man, and when Effie comes to you, get out and carry Donald into the hospital."
"You will ask them to let me in, won't you?" Elsie asked, earnestly.
"I will ask, but I don't know whether they will," Mrs. Donaldson replied, kindly. "Follow me, Effie."
Mrs. Donaldson went quickly down a narrow covered way, which Elsie, supposed led to the hospital. She had no idea what sort of a place it was, and everything here was bewilderingly new and strange to her. Meg had told her that there was a great bare room, where people waited their turn. Into such a room they seemed to have passed. There were several people running about, the friends, Elsie supposed, of those who were ill. "They are just going to shut the doors. Look how every one is running!" Mrs. Donaldson hurriedly exclaimed. "We shall be too late. Come, Effie."
She took Elsie's hand, and ran hastily across the great room. In a moment, before Elsie knew what was being done, a gentleman had seized her other hand, dragged her across a short space among a heap of people, thrust her into a carriage just as a whistle sounded, the door was banged to, and the train—for Elsie knew directly that she was in one—began to move off. She flew to the door directly they released their hold of her, but immediately two strong arms forced her back and a soft gloved hand was held over her mouth.