Part 2 (1/2)
”Mind, I'll be round in the mornin', and I don't want no gum games!
I've got too much to do on my hands now.”
Agnes paid no heed to him at all, but hastening back to her patients, she recommenced her nursing care of them.
There was no fire, and in fact none was needed, except for cooking and preparing the one or two simple remedies which Agnes used in connection with the treatment of the sick victims, and which she felt a.s.sured would not interfere with the medicine they were taking.
In truth, during the whole epidemic, it seemed as though mere medicine was of no avail whatever, and that really the methods and means used by the natives, independent of the doctors, did all the good that was done.
First, she got out of the store some mackerel and bound them, just as they came out of the barrel, brine and all, to the soles of the feet of both the mother and children.
This simple remedy acted like a charm, for in about three hours the fever began to break. Agnes put on fresh mackerel as before, removing the first ones, which, startling as it may seem, were perfectly putrid, though reeking with the strong salt brine when she applied them.
By nine o'clock that night the n.o.ble young woman had the inexpressible delight of seeing her poor patients so far changed for the better as to be completely out of danger.
On the next morning, true to his promise, the dead-wagon man came around. He was one of those in-bred wicked spirits which take delight in hating everything and everybody good and beautiful; just as the Greek peasant hated Aristides, and voted for his banishment, because he was surnamed the ”good.” This fellow already hated Agnes, and his ugly face was contorted with a hideous grin, as he thrust himself in at the store door and exclaimed:
”Hallo! where's them dead 'uns? fetch 'em out!”
Agnes had not expected him to put his threat of coming the next morning into execution. She was therefore somewhat taken aback on beholding him.
But she was a girl of steady, powerful nerves, and cool temper, and the instant she saw that the fellow had made up his mind to behave the way he did merely to vex and hara.s.s her, she made up her mind to ”settle him off.”
Paying no heed therefore to what he said, Agnes quietly put on her hat and shawl took her umbrella in her hand, and stepping directly up to the brutal wretch said, in a determined tone of voice:
”Come along with me; I intend to give you such a lesson that you will not forget in a hurry. You have given me impudence enough for the rest of your life. You have got to go back now with me to the office of the Superintendent, where I will have you discharged and then punished as you deserve.”
Perhaps thoughts of dark and cruel acts he had already been guilty of, flashed across his mind, and made him tremble for the consequences to himself. He evidently believed that Agnes knew more about him than he thought. Or perhaps it was that mysterious influence which a positive mind in motion--like Miss Arnold's--wields over a vacillating temperament like the dead-wagon driver's.
Whichever of these causes it was, could of course never be positively known, but, like a flash of lightning, the fellow changed his insolent, braggart manner to one of the most contemptible, cringing cowardice.
”Don't, Missus, don't! Ef I've 'sulted yer, 'pon my dirty soul I'll beg yer double-barrelled pardon. Please don't yer go to complainin' on me. For ef I'd lose my place, my wife and young 'uns 'ud starve to death in no time. I oughter knowed better then to sa.s.s you anyhow, when I seed how good and purty ye wuz!”
”Please don't leave us! don't leave us, Miss Agnes, for you've been our Good Angel. You have saved our lives!” piteously exclaimed Mrs. Burton and her children in chorus at this moment, fearful that their nurse was really going away, and dreading if she did, that they would all be carried off either to the cemetery or some other dreadful place.
”Now, please go back, and don't go a tellin' on me fur a sa.s.sin yer. I oughter to be ashamed; and I am double-barrelled ashamed. An' ef you'll jest say you'll furgiv' me, I'll go down on my knees. There now, Miss Agony, ain't that 'nuff? Ef it ain't, why I'll do whatever you say fur me to do.”
The fellow pulled off his hat, and set himself in such a ludicrously woebegone att.i.tude, that Miss Arnold had great difficulty in restraining herself from laughing outright. She managed, however, to keep a straight face, and replied:
”Well, this time I will allow it to pa.s.s; but never let me hear of such conduct again, or I will not be so lenient.”
”Thank you, missus; and may I ask you a queshun?”
”Yes.”
”I want ter ask you, how yer kep' them there fel's from a dyin'?
'Cause when they're bin tuk like they wuz tuk yer could jest bet every muel in the kerral that they'd peg out in twenty-seven hours at furthest.”
”G.o.d did it, not I,” replied Agnes.
”Don't call me sa.s.sin' yer, agin, Miss Agony, but that ain't so; 'cause thar's nuthin' 'll fetch 'em, when they're tuk the way they wuz tuk. It's magic done it, nuthin' else!”