Ester Ried | Page 6

be cared for, and watched over,
and petted every hour in the day. She was returning to her impatient,
irritable life. She forgot how high the fever had been at night, and how
the young head had ached; and only remembered how thoroughly tired
she was, watching and ministering day and night. So, when she
followed Dr. Van Anden to the sitting-room, in answer to his "I want to
see you, Miss Ester," it was a very sober, not altogether pleasant face
which listened to his words.
"Florence Vane is very sick to-night. Some one should be with her
besides the housekeeper. I thought of you. Will you watch with her?"
If any reasonable excuse could have been found, Ester would surely
have said "No," so foolish did this seem to her. Why, only yesterday
she had seen Florence sitting beside the open window, looking very
well; but then, she was Sadie's friend, and it had been more than two
weeks since Sadie had needed watching with at night. So Ester could
not plead fatigue.
"I suppose so," she answered, slowly, to the waiting doctor, hearing
which, he wheeled and left her, turning back, though, to say:
"Do not mention this to Sadie in her present state of body. I don't care
to have her excited."
"Very careful you are of everybody," muttered Ester, as he hastened
away. "Tell her what, I wonder? That you are making much ado about
nothing, for the sake of showing your astonishing skill?"

In precisely this state of mind she went, a few hours later, over to the
cottage, into the quiet room where Florence lay asleep--and, for aught
she could see, sleeping as quietly as young, fresh life ever did.
"What do you think of her?" whispered the old lady who acted as
housekeeper, nurse and mother to the orphaned Florence.
"I think I haven't seen her look better this great while," Ester answered,
abruptly.
"Well, I can't say as she looks any worse to me either; but Dr. Van
Anden is in a fidget, and I suppose he knows what he's about."
The doctor came in at eleven o'clock, stood for a moment by the
bedside, glanced at the old lady, who was dozing in her rocking-chair,
then came over to Ester and spoke low:
"I can't trust the nurse. She has been broken of her rest, and is weary. I
want you to keep awake. If she" (nodding toward Florence) "stirs, give
her a spoonful from that tumbler on the stand. I shall be back at twelve.
If she wakens, you may call her father, and send John for me; he's in
the kitchen. I shall be around the corner at Vinton's."
Then he went away, softly, as he had come.
The lamp burned low over by the window, the nurse slept on in her
arm-chair, and Ester sat with wide-open eyes fixed on Florence. And all
this time she thought that the doctor was engaged in getting up a scene,
the story of which should go forth next day in honor of his skill and
faithfulness; yet, having come to watch, she would not sleep at her post,
even though she believed in her heart that, were she sleeping by Sadie's
side, and the doctor quiet in his own room, all would go on well until
the morning.
But the doctor's evident anxiety had driven sleep from the eyes of the
gray-haired old man whose one darling lay quiet on the bed. He came
in very soon after the doctor had departed.

"I can't sleep," he said, in explanation, to Ester. "Some way I feel
worried. Does she seem worse to you?"
"Not a bit," Ester said, promptly. "I think she looks better than usual."
"Yes," Mr. Vane answered, in an encouraged tone; "and she has been
quite bright all day; but the doctor is all down about her. He won't say a
single cheering word."
Ester's indignation grew upon her. "He might, at least, have let this old
man sleep in peace," she said, sharply, in her heart.
At twelve, precisely, the doctor returned. He went directly to the
bedside.
"How has she been?" he asked of Ester, in passing.
"Just as she is now." Ester's voice was not only dry, but sarcastic.
Mr. Vane scanned the doctor's face eagerly, but it was grave and sad.
Quiet reigned in the room. The two men at Florence's side neither
spoke nor stirred. Ester kept her seat across from them, and grew every
moment more sure that she was right, and more provoked. Suddenly
the silence was broken. Dr. Van Anden bent low over the sleeper, and
spoke in a gentle, anxious tone: "Florence." But she neither stirred nor
heeded. He spoke again: "Florence;" and the blue eyes unclosed slowly
and wearily. The