I'm sick."
Caroline felt a thrill of dismay and fear. She faltered a few
steps backward.
"Sick? What's the matter with you?"
"I was in Charlottetown that night, and went to the concert.
That sailor sat right beside me. I thought at the time he looked
sick. It was just twelve days ago. I've felt bad all day
yesterday and to-day. Send for the doctor. Don't come near the
house, or let any one else come near."
He went in and shut the door. Caroline stood for a few moments
in an almost ludicrous panic. Then she turned and ran, as if for
her life, across the field. Eunice saw her coming and met her at
the door.
"Mercy on us!" gasped Caroline. "Christopher's sick and he
thinks he's got the smallpox. Where's Charles?"
Eunice tottered back against the door. Her hand went up to her
side in a way that had been getting very common with her of late.
Even in the midst of her excitement Caroline noticed it.
"Eunice, what makes you do that every time anything startles
you?" she asked sharply. "Is it anything about your heart?"
"I don't--know. A little pain--it's gone now. Did you say that
Christopher has--the smallpox?"
"Well, he says so himself, and it's more than likely, considering
the circumstances. I declare, I never got such a turn in my
life. It's a dreadful thing. I must find Charles at
once--there'll be a hundred things to do."
Eunice hardly heard her.
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