Part 19 (1/2)

”Father!” she said. ”He was quite well late last night. It was after midnight when we went to bed, and he was well then.”

The woman began to fumble uneasily at the latch.

”Don't ye git skeered, chile,” she said. ”Mebbe 'taint nothin'--but seemed to me like--like he didn't know me.”

Louisiana was out of bed, standing upon the floor and dressing hurriedly.

”He was well last night,” she said, piteously. ”Only a few hours ago.

He was well and talked to me and----”

She stopped suddenly to listen to the voice down-stairs--a new and terrible thought flas.h.i.+ng upon her.

”Who is with him?” she asked. ”Who is talking to him?”

”Thar aint no one with him,” was the answer. ”He's by hisself, honey.”

Louisiana was b.u.t.toning her wrapper at the throat. Such a tremor fell upon her that she could not finish what she was doing. She left the b.u.t.ton unfastened and pushed past Nancy and ran swiftly down the stairs, the woman following her.

The door of her father's room stood open and the fire Nancy had lighted burned and crackled merrily. Mr. Rogers was lying high upon his pillow, watching the blaze. His face was flushed and he had one hand upon his chest. He turned his eyes slowly upon Louisiana as she entered and for a second or so regarded her wonderingly. Then a change came upon him, his face lighted up--it seemed as if he saw all at once who had come to him.

”Ianthy!” he said. ”I didn't sca'cely know ye! Ye've bin gone so long! Whar hev ye bin?”

But even then she could not realize the truth. It was so short a time since he had bidden her good-night and kissed her at the door.

”Father!” she cried. ”It is Louisiana! Father, look at me!”

But he was looking at her, and yet he only smiled again.

”It's bin such a long time, Ianthy,” he said. ”Sometimes I've thought ye wouldn't never come back at all.”

And when she fell upon her knees at the bedside, with a desolate cry of terror and anguish, he did not seem to hear it at all, but lay fondling her bent head and smiling still, and saying happily:

”Lord! I _am_ glad to see ye!”

When the doctor came--he was a mountaineer like the rest of them, a rough good-natured fellow who had ”read a course” with somebody and ”'tended lectures in Cincinnatty”--he could tell her easily enough what the trouble was.

”Pneumony,” he said. ”And pretty bad at that. He haint hed no health fer a right smart while. He haint never got over thet spell he hed last winter. This yere change in the weather's what's done it. He was a-complainin' to me the other day about thet thar old pain in his chist. Things hes bin kinder 'c.u.mylatin' on him.”

”He does not know me!” said Louisiana. ”He is very ill--he is very ill!”

Doctor Hankins looked at his patient for a moment, dubiously.

”Wa-al, thet's so,” he said, at length. ”He's purty bad off--purty bad!”

By night the house was full of visitors and volunteer nurses. The fact that ”Uncle Elbert Rogers was down with pneumony, an' Louisianny thar without a soul anigh her” was enough to rouse sympathy and curiosity.

Aunt 'Mandy, Aunt Ca'line and Aunt 'Nervy came up one after the other.

”Louisianny now, she aint nothin' but a young thing, an' don't know nothin',” they said. ”An' Elbert bein' sich nigh kin, it'd look powerful bad if we didn't go.”