A self-control that was partly inherent and partly the result of too
early knowledge of grief and of responsibility came to her rescue.
With a long sigh, she walked steadily into the house and into the room
where the baby sister lay in a stupor, breathing stertorously.

The doctor and Amos were there. Mrs. Norton was now soothing Lizzie in
the kitchen, now obeying the doctor's orders. Amos did not stir from
his chair by the bed, nor speak a word, all that night. The doctor was
in his shirt sleeves, prepared to fight as best he could.

"Go out, Lydia," said Dr. Fulton, quietly.

"She'll want me," replied the child.

The doctor looked at Lydia keenly. He knew her well. He had ushered
her as well as Patience into the world. He pulled her to him, with one
hand, not relinquishing his hold on the baby's pulse with the other.

"She's in a stupor and won't miss you, Lydia. She is not suffering at
all. Now, I want you to go to bed like a good girl."

"I won't," said Lydia, quietly.

"Lydia," the doctor went on, as if he were talking to a grown person,
"all your life you will be grateful to me, if I make you obey me now.
I know those wild nerves of yours, too much and too early controlled.
_Lydia, go to bed_!"

Not because she feared him but because some knowledge beyond her years
told her of his wisdom, Lydia turned, found Florence Dombey in the