Part 8 (1/2)

She ran to the door, threw it open, and then drew back a step in surprise. The visitor was Winifred Hamilton.

”Good-morning,” said Winifred pleasantly. ”Mother's gone out shopping with Aunt Estelle, and she said I might come and see you and Jack. I was coming before, but I've had a bad cold ever since Sat.u.r.day, and mother was afraid of the draughts on the stairs. I haven't been to school all the week. Why, what's the matter--is Jack ill?”

”No,” said Betty; ”Jack's all right, but oh, I'm so sorry your mother's gone out. I was just going to ask her if she wouldn't please come up here to see mother.”

”Is there something the matter with your mother?” Winifred inquired sympathetically.

”She had a bad cold yesterday, and this morning she's worse. She keeps her eyes shut most of the time, and doesn't understand the things I say to her. I'm afraid she is very ill--oh, I'm afraid she is.” And Betty burst into tears.

Winifred's tender little heart was filled with compa.s.sion.

”Don't cry, don't,” she whispered, throwing her arms impulsively around Betty's neck; ”maybe she'll be all right soon. I'll tell mother about it the minute she comes in, and she'll come right up. Do you think Jack would like to have me stay with him for a while? I might read to him while you're doing things for your mother.”

Betty said she was sure Jack would like it very much, and having dried her eyes on Winifred's handkerchief, she led the way to her brother's bedside.

”Jack,” said Betty softly, ”here's Winifred Hamilton. Her mother's out, but she's going to tell her about mother just as soon as she comes home.”

Jack looked pleased.

”I'm glad to see you,” he said politely, holding out his thin little hand. ”I'm usually up on the sofa by this time, but mother wasn't able to dress me this morning.”

”That's all right,” said Winifred, giving the outstretched hand a hearty squeeze. ”When people aren't very strong they often stay in bed quite late, you know. Your mother's awake now, isn't she, Betty? I hear her talking.”

Betty stole on tiptoe to her mother's door, but returned in a moment.

”She's only talking in her sleep,” she said anxiously. ”I spoke to her, but she didn't answer. Did you ever see any one who was very ill, Winifred?”

”I saw Mr. Bradford have an attack once,” said Winifred; ”his eyes were shut, and he looked very white. Mrs. Bradford sent for the doctor. Why don't you have a doctor come to see your mother?”

”She doesn't want one,” said Betty, coloring. ”I asked her this morning, and she said she didn't. Would you mind coming to look at her, Winifred?

Perhaps you can tell what the matter is.”

Winifred said she would not mind, and, hand in hand, the two little girls stole into the dark little bedroom, and stood looking down at the flushed face on the pillow. Mrs. Randall was tossing restlessly from side to side, and talking in a low, incoherent way.

”Mother,” said Betty in a voice that she tried hard to make steady and cheerful, ”here's Winifred Hamilton. She came up to see us, and she's going to read to Jack.”

Mrs. Randall muttered something unintelligible, and her eyes wandered past the two children, and fixed themselves vacantly on the opposite wall.

”I'm not going to be ill,” she said, apparently addressing some unseen person; ”I can't be ill, you know. I must take care of the children; there's no one else to do it.”

”She's delirious,” whispered Winifred, looking frightened. ”I never saw any one like that before, but I've read about it in books. I'm sure a doctor ought to see her.”

Betty's cheeks were scarlet, and her eyes drooped, but she said nothing, and in silence they went back to Jack. The little boy looked imploringly at Winifred, as if with some faint hope that she might be able to set matters right.

”Do you think she's very ill?” he asked tremulously.

”I think a doctor ought to see her,” said Winifred decidedly. ”My friend Lulu Bell's papa is a doctor, and he's very kind. Would you like to have me ask him to come and see your mother?”

”No,” said Betty sharply; ”mother doesn't want a doctor; I told you so before.”

”But, Betty,” persisted Winifred, ”she ought to have some medicine or something, and we don't know what to do for her. I know mother would send for a doctor right away if she were at home.”

To Winifred's surprise, Betty suddenly put up both hands before her face, and burst into a pa.s.sion of crying.