It'll likely
spread. When do you expect Victoria home?"
"When she's ready to come, whenever that will be," was the gruff
response.
A week later Caroline said to Eunice, "Whatever's got
Christopher? He hasn't been out anywhere for ages--just hangs
round home the whole time. It's something new for him. I s'pose
the place is so quiet, now Madam Victoria's away, that he can
find some rest for his soul. I believe I'll run over after
milking and see how he's getting on. You might as well come,
too, Eunice."
Eunice shook her head. She had all her mother's obstinacy, and
darken Victoria's door she would not. She went on patiently
darning socks, sitting at the west window, which was her favorite
position--perhaps because she could look from it across the
sloping field and past the crescent curve of maple grove to her
lost home.
After milking, Caroline threw a shawl over her head and ran
across the field. The house looked lonely and deserted. As she
fumbled at the latch of the gate the kitchen door opened, and
Christopher Holland appeared on the threshold.
"Don't come any farther," he called.
Caroline fell back in blank astonishment. Was this some more of
Victoria's work?
"I ain't an agent for the smallpox," she called back viciously.
Christopher did not heed her.
"Will you go home and ask uncle if he'll go, or send for Doctor
Spencer? He's the smallpox doctor.
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