A Girl in Ten Thousand | Page 8

mention the nature of the case?"
"No, no," answered Effie; "but the nature of the case won't make any difference to her."
The doctor pursed up his mouth as if he meant to whistle; he restrained himself, however, and stood looking down the street. After a time he turned and glanced at his daughter.
"Now, Effie," he said, "you must do all you can for your mother. Don't let her get anxious. There is nothing to be frightened about as far as I am concerned. If mortal man can pull the child through, I will do it, but I must have no home cares as well. You will take up that burden--eh, little woman?"
"I will try, father," said Effie.
Just then Dorothy appeared. She had dressed herself in her nurse's costume--gray dress, gray cloak, gray bonnet. The dress suited her earnest and reposeful face. She crossed the road with a firm step, carrying a little bag in her hand.
"Well, Dr. Staunton," she said, "I hear you have got a case for me."
The doctor gazed at her for a moment without speaking.
"Bless me," he exclaimed; "it is a comfort to see a steady-looking person like you in the place. And so you are really willing to help me in this emergency?"
"Why, of course," said Dorothy. "I am a nurse."
"But you don't know the nature of the case yet!"
"I don't see that that makes any difference; but will you tell me?"
"And it is your holiday," pursued the doctor, gazing at her. "You don't take many holidays in the year I presume?"
"I have had a week, and I am quite rested," said Dorothy. "I always hold my life in readiness," she continued, looking up at him with a flash out of her dark blue eyes. "Anywhere at any time, when I am called, I am ready. But what is the matter? What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to help me to pull a child back from the borders of death."
"A child! I love children," said Dorothy. "What ails the child?"
"She has acute scarlet fever and diphtheria. No precautions have been taken with regard to sanitation. She is the child of rich people, but they have been wantonly neglectful, almost cruel in their negligence and ignorance. The mother, a young woman, is nearly certain to take the complaint and, to complicate everything, there is another baby expected before long. Now you understand. If you get into that house you are scarcely likely to go out of it again for some time."
Dorothy stood grave and silent.
"Oh, Dorothy, is it right for you to go?" exclaimed Effie, who was watching her friend anxiously.
"Yes," said Dorothy, "it is right. They may possibly be obliged to fill my place at St. Joseph's. I was only considering that point for a moment. After all, it is not worth troubling about. I am at your service, Dr. Staunton. We may require one or two other nurses to help us if things are as bad as you fear."
"God bless you!" said the doctor. Something very like moisture came into his eyes. He began to blow his nose violently. "Now, Effie, you will do your best at home," he said, turning to his daughter. "This way, please, Miss Fraser."
"Good-by, Effie, dear," said Dorothy. She kissed her friend. The doctor and the nurse walked toward the dog-cart; he helped her to mount, and then drove rapidly down the street. The vehicle was soon out of sight.
"I wonder what father will think of Dorothy after this?" thought Effie to herself. The feeling that her father would really approve of her friend gave her much consolation. She went back into the house, and as it was now half-past five, decided that it was not worth while to return to bed. There was always plenty to be done in this little house with its overflowing inhabitants, and Effie found heaps to occupy her until it was time to go into the nursery to help the little nursemaid with her various duties.
The children always hailed Effie with a scream of delight; they were not a bit afraid of her, for she was the most indulgent elder sister in the world, but all the same she managed to make them obey her.
Susan was sent downstairs to get her breakfast, while Effie saw the elder ones safely through the process of dressing. She took the baby on her knee, and, removing his night-clothes, put him into his bath, and dressed him herself quickly and expeditiously. She then carried him into her mother's room.
Mrs. Staunton had spent a troubled night.
"Is that you, Effie?" she exclaimed, looking at her daughter; "and oh, there is baby--how sweet he looks! What a splendid nurse you are, my darling, and what a wonderful comfort to me! Give me my dear little man. I will take