CHAPTER IV.


That horrid, teasing cough of Dick's got worse and worse, and by evening
he was lying patiently in his crib, with a steaming kettle singing into
the little tent of blankets that enveloped it, and a very large and very
hot linseed poultice on his chest. Susie, sitting down below, could hear
the hasty footsteps and the hoarse, croaking sound that always filled her
with panic. Their tea was brought to them by the overworked maid, and she
and Tom ate it in a depressed silence, and then sat again on the
window-sill looking silently and miserably out to sea. By-and-by nurse
came in hurriedly, with the news that baby was crying and had to be
attended to, and that she and Tom must manage to put themselves to bed.

"I haven't time to brush your hair," nurse said regretfully; and Susie's
face lightened.

"Nurse, is Dick better?" she asked breathlessly.

"He's about as bad as I've ever seen him," nurse said shortly, and turned
to leave the room; but Susie clung desperately to her skirt.

"Don't go, nurse. Let me do something--let me hold baby."

"No, indeed, Miss Susie," said nurse; "you've done mischief enough
already. Go to bed quietly, and try to get up right foot foremost
to-morrow."