But look here. I've got some
medicine out here in the pantry, some Epsom salts, which they used to
come and get for old Mr. Withey. They used to tell me it did him a lot
of good. I wish you could wait till I get a little for Mr. Gebhart."
Mrs. Trent hastened from the room, and Doctor McMurray heard her
moving pans and bottles on the shelves as though she were in search of
the medicine. Suddenly the sound ceased; he waited a minute or two,
pacing uneasily up and down the room, with the thought of the sick old
man heavy upon his mind. At last he called:
"Mrs. Trent, can't I help you? Don't trouble if you can't find it
easily."
No answer reached his ears for a moment. Then Mrs. Trent emerged from
the pantry walking unsteadily, as though she carried a terrific
weight. Doctor McMurray was at her side in an instant, and led her to
a chair.
"Tell me," he urged, "what is it? What is the trouble?"
Mrs. Trent covered her face with her hands, and her slender figure
bent silently before the strength of her emotion.
"Look," she moaned at last; "go and look for yourself.
Pages:
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134