“You tell me how Emily is or I’ll hang on to your coat till the seams go,” said Perry stubbornly. “I can’t get one word of sense out of them old maids. You tell me.”
“She’s a sick child but I’m not seriously alarmed about her yet.” The doctor gave his coat another tug—but Perry held on for a last word.
“You’ve got to cure her,” he said. “If anything happens to Emily I’ll drown myself in the pond—mind that.”
He let go so suddenly that Dr. Burnley nearly went headlong on the ground. Then Perry curled up on the doorstep again. He watched there until Laura and Cousin Jimmy had gone to bed and then he sneaked through the house and sat on the stairs, where he could hear any sound in Emily’s room. He sat there all night, with his fists clenched, as if keeping guard against an unseen foe.
Elizabeth Murray watched by Emily until two o’clock, and then Laura took her place.
“She has raved a great deal,” said Aunt Elizabeth. “I wish I knew what is worrying her—there is something, I feel sure. It isn’t all mere delirium. She keeps repeating ‘She couldn’t have done it’ in such imploring tones. I wonder oh, Laura, you remember the time I read her letters? Do you think she means me?”
Laura shook her head. She had never seen Elizabeth so moved.
“If the child—doesn’t get—better—” said Aunt Elizabeth. She said no more but went quickly out of the room.
Laura sat down by the bed. She was pale and drawn with her own worry and fatigue—for she had not been able to sleep. She loved Emily as her own child and the awful dread that had possessed her heart would not lift for an instant. She sat there and
