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Updated: May 28, 2025
"The fever'll get worse," Dave said reluctantly. "Bad enough to make you delirious. They you'll go into a coma, and if you don't get first-class medical attention, you'll die." "I've heard better news," Tarlac admitted. "Just what can you do about it?" "Not much, I'm afraid," Dave said.
Your fever'll rise toward evening, and that's the time he wants to see you. I shall sleep in the spare room next you to-night." "Thank you, Mrs. Forbes. You are so kind; but you won't have to," replied the child earnestly. "Would you please draw up the curtains and put Anna Belle's clothes on the bed? Perhaps I'll dress her after a while.
"Oh, but you will;" and Barry rang the bell and had the wine brought. "And you expect she'll have another attack to-morrow?" "That's a matter of course, Mr Lynch; the fever'll come on her again to-morrow. Every attack leaves her weaker and weaker, and we fear she'll go off, before it leaves her altogether." "Poor thing!" said Barry, contemplatively. "We had her head shaved," said the doctor.
An' I've sponged her off with cool water, an' she feels better, though she's off agin, an' I'm afraid the fever'll be runnin' up on us before the doctor can git here." "You mean she isn't sensible now?" demanded Francis, whose eyes had lighted up with hope when she began to speak. "Well, not so's ye could talk to her. An' ye might excite her. Them they loves does often."
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