"Do you stay with me: don't leave me," holding Kitty's sleeve. "If you
would nurse me, I should get well."

"It is impossible that the lady should nurse you," said Pollard.

Kitty sat down: she began to tremble and turn white. "She has nobody
but me. I'll stay," she said quietly.

McCall beckoned his fellow-physician out into the corridor.

"My dear fellow--" Pollard began.

"No: I know you sympathize with me. But we will not talk of this
matter. Is that woman dying?"

"I'm afraid--that is, I think not. She is decidedly better to-day than
she was last night. With care she may recover."

Kitty came out and stood with them in the corridor. McCall looked at
her with amazement. The shy, silly school-girl, afraid to find her
way about Berrytown, bore herself in this desperate juncture like the
sagest of matrons.

"Is there no hospital to which she can be taken?" she said to Pollard.

"Yes, of course, of course."

"I'll go with her there, then. You know," laying her hand on McCall's
arm, "you _did_ marry her. You ought to try to help her poor body and
soul as long as she lives."