"I don't so very well like the look o' the bairn," she said, surveying him carefully. "It strikes me you won't find it an easy matter to get him dressed. Here, Duncan, are you ready for something to eat now?" she cried, bending over him, and raising her voice.
But the child did not answer. He lay there as motionless as though he had been carved out of stone, scarcely moving an eyelid at the sound of Meg's words.
Elsie jumped up, and began dressing herself quickly.
"I'll go myself and tell them how ill he is," she said, "and ask them to send him to the hospital where they cured you, and I'll go with him."
Meg said nothing, but she knew very well that this last, at any rate, was quite out of the question.
"You'd better go straight down into the shop if you want to speak to the master," she said, as she left the room.
Elsie found her way down the long flights of dark stairs as soon as she was dressed. She pushed open the door leading into the shop, and went in boldly. The man who had received them the night before was busily sorting over heaps of papers, but no one else was near. Elsie went up to him.
"Donald's ill; he's got the fever, and he must go to the hospital," she said, in a voice of decision.
"Ha!" said the man, not looking up from his work. "I thought he didn't seem quite the thing. Your mother'll be round by-and-by, and then you can tell her about it."
It was not said unkindly, but the complete indifference angered Elsie, who was burning with impatience for something to be done very quickly.