Part 39 (2/2)

”Just you set right still, John Brierly, and don't get excited. I ain't felt so young sence mother scolded me for walkin' out with you.” She laughed a little happy laugh. ”Why, it takes me back fifty years!”

”Oh, Drusilla,” murmured John. ”If it makes you talked about--”

”Makes me talked about! Why, who'd 'a' thought when Mis' Fisher come to mother when we was young and said that our carryin's on was disgraceful, that in fifty years another Mis' Fisher-kind would say the same thing. Oh, John, why don't you laugh?”

”I don't see anything to laugh about, Drusilla.”

”You never had a sense of humor, John; but you was born without it.

But, I tell you, it makes me young again. Why, it makes a woman old to feel she can do just as she pleases and not git talked about; and I feel I ain't got one foot in the grave to know that I can still be carryin' on--Oh, I guess, I'll go and put on my new dress that's just come home. I ain't seventy--I'm still a girl!”

And, chuckling to herself, she went out of the room, followed by John's wondering eyes. He sat quietly a moment, then went back to his book, feeling that woman's reasoning was far beyond his ken.

That night, as she and John were sitting down to their seven o'clock dinner, a frightened nurse came running in.

”Oh, Miss Doane,” she said, ”one of the babies is very sick. He don't seem able to breathe.”

Drusilla put down her napkin and started immediately for the nursery, where she found one of the younger babies struggling for its breath, evidently in the earlier stages of pneumonia. She looked at it a moment, then said:

”Now you git one of the babies' bathtubs filled with hot water and I'll be back in a minute. Have some one telephone for Dr. Eaton.”

She hurried to her rooms and put on a big white ap.r.o.n, then to the linen closet and got a piece of white flannel, and was just starting for the nursery again, when a card was brought her. She read on it: _James Carrington_.

”He's part of the Committee,” she said; and as she pa.s.sed through the hall she went up to him.

”You're Mr. Carrington,” she began abruptly.

”I'm real glad to see you. I know what you come for, but I ain't got time to talk now. You come with me and we'll talk afterwards.”

And before the chairman of the Committee could say a word he was hurried upstairs and into a small room, where a couple of frightened nurses were looking at a baby whose flushed face and labored breathing showed that he was very ill. Drusilla went to the small bathtub that was placed on the floor.

”Come here, Mr. Carrington,” she said; ”you're stronger than I am.

Lift this up on them two chairs. So--that's right. Now put this thermometer in the water and see if it's 100 degrees. I can't see to read it. Is it right? Now--we'll take the baby--take off your coat and hat--yes, you'd better take off that coat too”--seeing that the man was in evening dress--”and turn up your sleeves--you'll git your cuffs wet. Now take off the baby's clothes, Mary. So--poor little thing!--take 'em all off, s.h.i.+rt and all, and we'll put him in this piece of flannel. Now you hold him like this, Mr. Carrington. Hold him in the hot water. There--jest so's his face is out--don't let him slip! So--now he's breathin' better already. Don't let the water git cold, Mary. Put a little more hot water in--there--that's right. Yes, he's gittin' red, Mr. Carrington, but he wants to git red. See, he's breathin' better. Does your arm ache? Hold him a little longer; I'm goin' to git some goose grease that I brought along with me from the home. I'll be back in a minute. Don't let the water git cool.”

She returned in a few moments with a bottle in her hand, and handed it to one of the nurses.

”Warm it, put it in hot water till it runs. Now--”

Just then the door opened and a woman stood in the doorway, an angry look on her pretty, petulant face. She was covered with a big white evening wrap, and was most impatient. She looked at the scene before her without comprehending it, and her voice said angrily:

”Robert, we will be late for the opera! What do you mean by--”

Drusilla looked from the baby to the woman in the doorway.

”Come right in, Mis' Carrington. I'm glad you come. Take off your coat. Yes, we need you. Lay it over there on the bed.”

And before the astonished woman knew what she was doing her wrap was laid upon a small white bed and she was standing in her elaborate evening gown looking down at a very red baby being held in a hot bath by the hands of her husband.

<script>