by now and there’s no sign of it. Her fever is very high—but I don’t think we need be alarmed yet. If I thought otherwise I wouldn’t go to town. Keep her as quiet as possible—humour her whims if you can—I don’t like that mental disturbance. She looks terribly distressed—seems to be worrying over something. Has she had anything on her mind of late?”
“Not that I know of,” said Aunt Elizabeth. She had a sudden bitter realisation that she really did not know much about the child’s mind. Emily would never have come to her with any of her little troubles and worries.
“Emily, what is bothering you?” asked Dr. Burnley softly—very softly. He took the hot, tossing, little hand gently, oh, so gently, in his big one.
Emily looked up with wild, fever-bright eyes.
“She couldn’t have done it—she couldn’t have done it.”
“Of course she couldn’t,” said the doctor cheerily. “Don’t worry—she didn’t do it.”
His eyes telegraphed, “What does she mean?” to Elizabeth, but Elizabeth shook her head.
“Who are you talking about—dear?” she asked Emily. It was the first time she had called Emily “dear.”
But Emily was off on another tack. The well in Mr. Lee’s field was open, she declared. Someone would be sure to fall into it. Why didn’t Mr. Lee shut it up? Dr. Burnley left Aunt Elizabeth trying to reassure Emily on that point and hurried away to White Cross.
At the door he nearly fell over Perry who was curled up on the sandstone slab, hugging his sunburned legs desperately. “How is Emily?” he demanded, grasping the skirt of the doctor’s coat.
“Don’t bother me—I’m in a hurry,” growled the doctor.
