"What are you doing here?" demanded Isaac in stern surprise.
"Manicuring my finger-nails," she said, with an impudent grin, as she
straightened her tired shoulders. Then seeing Dr. Adair, she blushed and
wiped her hands on her apron.
"You don't remember me, Doctor, do you? I helped you with Uncle Jed Burks
at the signal tower that time when the lightning struck him."
He looked her over, his glance traveling from her frank, friendly face to
her strong bare arms.
"Why, yes, I do. You and your brother had been to some fancy-dress
affair. I remember your red shoes. It isn't every girl of your age that
could have done what you did that night. Have you been vaccinated?"
"Twice. Both took."
"She's got no business being here, sir," Isaac broke in hotly. "I told
her to keep out."
"Doctor! Listen at me!" pleaded Nance, her hand on his coat sleeve.
Honest to goodness, I _got_ to stay. Mrs. Snawdor don't believe it's
smallpox. She'll slip the children in when you ain't looking and go out
herself and see the neighbors. Don't you see that somebody's got to be
here that understands?"
"The girl's right, Lavinski," said Dr. Adair. "She knows the ropes here,
and can be of great service to us. The nurse downstairs can't begin to
do it all. Now let us have a look at the patient."
Little Mr. Snawdor was hardly worth looking at. He lay rigid, like a
dried twig, with his eyes shut tight, and his mouth shut tight, and his
hands clenched tighter still.
Pages:
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285