Part 8 (2/2)

”Oh, what shall we do--what shall we do?” she sobbed, rocking herself backward and forward in her distress; ”we can't have a doctor, mother said we couldn't; she said we couldn't afford it.”

For a moment Winifred stood motionless, uncertain what to do or say.

Jack hid his face in the bedclothes, shaking from head to foot with sobs. Next instant both Winifred's arms were around Betty's neck.

”I'll tell you what I'll do, Betty,” she whispered eagerly. ”I'll go and see Dr. Bell myself, and tell him all about it. He's very kind indeed.

Lulu says he often goes to see poor--I mean people who can't afford to pay him, and when Lulu's kitty got run over by a trolley-car and had her leg broken, he set the leg himself, and took such good care of the kitty that she got all well again. I'll go right away; he's always at home in the morning, and I know he won't mind coming one single bit. Oh, Betty, please, please do let me.”

Betty wavered, but Jack, lifting his tear-stained face from the pillow, cried imploringly:

”Yes, do go, Winifred, and, oh, please ask him to come right away.

Mother must have a doctor, Betty, and it doesn't matter whether she can afford it or not.”

Winifred waited to hear no more. Three minutes later she was ringing violently at her own front door bell.

”Oh, Lizzie,” she cried breathlessly, as the maid opened the door, ”I want you to put on your hat right away, and come with me to Dr. Bell's!

Mrs. Randall is very, very ill, and Betty and Jack don't know what to do for her.”

At first Lizzie seemed inclined to hesitate, but when the state of the case had been more fully explained to her, she willingly consented to leave her ironing, and she and Winifred were soon in the street hurrying towards the home of Winifred's friends.

As they approached their destination, Winifred's courage began to fail.

After all, she thought, she might be doing a very bold and unheard-of thing in asking a doctor to go to see a person who had frankly stated that she could not afford to employ him. What if Dr. Bell were angry--what if he refused to go? Winifred's heart sank at the thought.

Her friend Lulu would be at school she knew, but possibly her mother or aunt might be at home. Winifred decided that in that case she would tell her story to them. It would be much less formidable than appealing directly to the doctor himself. Her heart was beating very fast as they mounted Dr. Bell's front steps and when the door was opened by a small boy in bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, who greeted her with a broad smile of recognition, she could scarcely summon voice enough to inquire:

”Are Mrs. Bell or Miss Warren at home, Jimmie?”

”No, Miss, they've both of 'em gone out,” returned the boy, regarding her somewhat curiously. ”Miss Lulu's out too; she's gone to school.”

”Yes, I knew Lulu would be at school,” said Winifred, ”but I thought Mrs. Bell or Miss Warren might be in. I--I want to see the doctor.”

”Oh, the doctor's in all right. He's got a patient just now, but you can wait in the front office.”

There was no help for it then, and, with a little frightened gasp, Winifred followed the boy to the doctor's comfortable office, where she sat down on a sofa to wait until he should be disengaged. She did not have long to wait. In a few moments she heard the front door open and close. Then the door of the waiting room opened and the doctor came in.

He was a tall gentleman with a kind, pleasant face, and at sight of Winifred he came quickly forward, smiling and holding out his hand.

”Good-morning, little Miss Winnie,” he said pleasantly, ”and what can I do for you to-day? Nothing wrong at home, I hope.”

”Oh, no, sir,” said Winifred, half her fears vanis.h.i.+ng at the sound of the doctor's kind voice; ”father and mother are very well. I've had a cold, but I'm all right again now. I come--that is, I want--oh, Dr.

Bell, will you please do me a very great favor?”

”Do you a favor?” the doctor repeated, still smiling, and sitting down beside her on the sofa. ”Yes indeed, I will--that is, if I can. What is it?”

”It's to go and see Mrs. Randall, who lives in our apartment house,”

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