The Girls of St. Wode's Part 36

"Forward," said Belle; "yes, I sometimes do. I look forward to the time when frivols will be exterminated forever, when the drones in the ordinary course of things must die out. Leslie, dear, would you feel inclined to hear me recite some verses of my own this morning? I have been in the poetic mood for the last few days, and last night the poet's frenzy really seized me. My lines begin with 'Delve, delve, deeply delve.'"

"I don't think I quite follow," said Leslie.

"Quite follow! but it is so simple. The metaphor refers to a miner, the gold is beneath. He delves, he obtains, his joy is unutterable."

"But I am not in the humor for poetry to-day. The fact is, I am not in the humor to be anything but disobliging."

"Now, that I do not believe; but I will keep my verses until they are quite finished, each stanza correct, the swing, the meter perfect. By the way, have you seen the Chetwynds since they came down?"

"No."

"I hear that Eileen has taken some dreadful disease exploring in back slums. Her mother is in a terrible state."

"But is Eileen really ill?" asked Leslie, starting up.

"So I have heard; they say she is rather bad. Oh, my dear, it is only the body; pray don't worry!"

"But, Belle, this is intolerable. We cannot do without our bodies while we live. Poor Eileen ill! What did you say? Fever?"

"I do not know that I did; but it is fever-typhoid or typhus, or something of that sort. I didn't quite catch the name. It may be smallpox, but I don't think so."

"Belle, you are intolerable; you have no sympathy."

"Intolerable?" said Belle. "Now, my dear Leslie, for goodness' sake, don't get commonplace. You may be quite certain that Eileen has the best doctors and the best nurses which London can afford. Does it help her that you should have that flush on your cheeks and that frown between your brows? Does it help her that you should abuse me? All this emotion is waste-waste of sympathy."

"I am sorry, but I must give it," said Leslie. "Dear Marjorie, how she will feel it. I must go and inquire after Eileen immediately."

"I thought you were not well yourself."

"I have a headache, but what does that matter? I must go to see Marjorie immediately, and to hear about Eileen."

"If you want to make your inquiries properly," said Belle, "go by the underground. It is so hot that you will feel yourself a real martyr. Put on your thickest coat and your heaviest hat, and then you will really enjoy yourself. Good-by: I am going away, as I see it is your wish. I will come another day when you feel more like the Leslie Gilroy whom I used to admire at St. Wode's."

"I will never be the Leslie that you admired if you wish me not to give sympathy to those in trouble," replied Leslie.

She ran upstairs, put on her hat, took up her gloves, and went out.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE TWINS.

Leslie arrived at the Chetwynds' house to see the street outside covered with straw. The knocker to the door was m.u.f.fled. She rang the bell. The footman replied to her summons, said that Miss Eileen was very ill indeed, and that he did not believe the young lady could be admitted, but if she particularly wished it, he would go and inquire.

He was just stepping on tiptoe across the hall when a face was pushed outside a sitting-room door, and the next moment Lettie rushed up to Leslie.

"Oh, do come in, Leslie," she cried. "I am so lonely and miserable, and it would be an immense comfort to see anyone. Yes, Eileen is very ill, very ill indeed. The doctor says that the typhoid is running a most severe course, and there are complications, a chance of pneumonia, if you know what that means. Come in, do. I know Aunt Helen won't mind my asking you in, and as to Marjorie--"

"Oh! it is poor Marjorie I am so terribly anxious about," said Leslie.

"How is she bearing up? They are so devoted to each other."

"Well, really, Leslie, to be plain with you, Marjorie is in a very extraordinary state. She simply won't be reasonable. None of us can make her out, and the doctors are terribly annoyed with her. She cannot be got to leave Eileen's room; we cannot drag her away. Poor Aunt Helen is in a perfectly terrible state about her. Her face is completely changed; she won't eat anything, and only drops off to sleep when she is too tired to stay awake for a moment. Leslie, if anything happens to Eileen, Marjorie will die."

"But surely, Lettie, Eileen cannot be so bad as all that?"

"She is very bad indeed, I can tell you; I don't think she can be much worse. There were two doctors here this morning, and there are two nurses, a day and a night nurse, on duty; and now Dr. Ericson wants to call in a third. Eileen took that horrible fever in the buildings where the coachman lives, not a doubt of it."

"But I didn't know that typhoid fever was really infectious," said Leslie.

"In the ordinary sense it is not; but a whole family were down with it in A Block, and Eileen would go to the house, and she was very hot and thirsty, and they gave her some water to drink, and now it seems that all that water was terribly contaminated. It had some of those queer little things they call bacilli in it, and Dr. Ericson said they were the bacilli of typhoid fever. How puzzling these modern scientific names are!"

Lettie sank into an easy chair, and invited Leslie to one by her side.

"The fever is not infectious to us, you know," she continued, "and that in a kind of way is a comfort. Eileen began to be poorly and not herself a week ago. Now she is very ill and quite unconscious, and yet the very worst stage of the fever is yet to come. You cannot imagine the state poor Aunt Helen is in."

"I earnestly wish I could help," said Leslie.

"Well, you are helping when you come to see me, for I do want cheering up dreadfully. Belle Acheson was here for a moment or two this morning.

What a terrible girl she is!"

"I like her," replied Leslie. "I think she has a great deal in her. She at least is thoroughly out of the common."

"I grant you that," answered Lettie; "but preserve me from such uncommon people. Give me the everyday sort of character. Not," she added, "that I feel unkindly towards her, and I really did try to take compa.s.sion on her unfortunate wardrobe; but that, perhaps, was because I did not like the respectability of our dear old hall to be damaged by her thoroughly disreputable appearance. Dear, dear!" added Lettie, sighing gently, "how far away all that time seems now. We looked forward so much to the long vacation; and see what has happened-Eileen so terribly ill."

Just at that moment the room door was opened, and Mrs. Chetwynd entered.

She had never seen Leslie before, and rather resented her intrusion on the scene.

"My dear Lettie," she said, "I wish you would go up to Marjorie, for I cannot quiet her. She has left the sick-room for a wonder, and gone into her own, and there she has broken down in the most extraordinary manner.

I tremble lest her cries and groans should reach Eileen's ears. Perhaps this young lady-I did not catch her name-oh, Miss Gilroy-perhaps Miss Gilroy, under the circ.u.mstances, you will excuse us."

"Yes, Aunt Helen, I will go up," said Lettie; "but I don't think I shall be of the least use. I seem to have lost all power of soothing or helping either of the girls. When I was with them at school they rather deferred to my opinion on certain matters, but now all things are changed."

"Don't stand talking there, dear; do go," said Mrs. Chetwynd.

"I will go, of course, but I warn you I shan't be the least sc.r.a.p of use. Good-by, Leslie; it was kind of you to call. Miss Gilroy is one of our special chums at college, Aunt Helen, and a great friend both of Eileen's and Marjorie's."

"In that case, sit down for a minute or two, Miss Gilroy. Now run, Lettie; please don't wait another moment."

Lettie left the room, and Mrs. Chetwynd stared at Leslie. Leslie returned her gaze with one frank and sympathetic.

"I am so truly sorry for you," she said in her soft voice. Her brown eyes gazed full into Mrs. Chetwynd's agitated face. "And I know what illness means," continued Leslie very softly, "for Llewellyn-I beg your pardon, I mean my dear brother-he was terribly ill once, almost at death's door. Oh, yes, I know what my mother suffered, and what we all felt; but he got quite well again, as strong as ever. We had a bad time, but it was over soon. It will be just the same with Eileen, I feel convinced."

"Oh, my dear child, if I could but believe it. I never felt in such a terrible state in my life, and I know the doctors are most anxious. I must go back; I cannot add another word. Good-by; thank you for coming.

Your name is--"

"Gilroy," said Leslie.