m. Get sleep
yourself and plenty of it. As it is you're not fit to take care of a cat."
Abruptly he turned and left the room. Edith followed. The street door
closed, and in a moment after that his motor was off with a muffled roar.
Edith came back, picked up her directions and turned to her sister:
"Will you go up and sit with Bruce? I'll telephone the druggist," she said.
Deborah went to the sick room. Bruce's small face, peaked and gray in the
soft dim light, turned as she entered and came to the bed.
"Well, dear?" she whispered. The small boy's eyes, large and heavy with
fever, looked straight into hers.
"Sick," said the baby hoarsely. The next instant he tossed up his hands and
went through a spasm, trying to breathe. It passed, he relaxed a little,
and again stared solemnly at his aunt. "Sick," he repeated. "Wery sick."
Deborah sat silent. The child had another fight for his breath; and this
time as he did so, Deborah's body contracted, too. A few moments later
Edith came in. Deborah returned downstairs, and for over an hour she sat by
herself. Roger was in his study, Betsy and George had gone to bed. The
night nurse arrived and was taken upstairs. Still Deborah's mind felt numb
and cold. Instinctively again and again it kept groping toward one point:
"If I had a baby as sick as that, what would I do? What would I do?"
When the doorbell rang again, she frowned, rose quickly and went to the
door.
Pages:
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303