. I'll see that they get there
to-day . . . yours of the tenth at hand . . ."
"Mother! Mother! Molly dear!" She shook her gently, then
almost roughly. The voice ceased. The eyes remained the
same. "Oh, God!" She ran to the back of the house.
"Annie! Annie, get up! Mother's sick. She's out of her
head. I'm going to 'phone for the doctor. Go in with her."
She got the doctor at last. She tried to keep her voice
under control, and thought, with a certain pride, that she
was succeeding. She ran up-stairs again. The voice had
begun again, but it seemed thicker now. She got into her
clothes, shaking with cold and terror, and yet thinking very
clearly, as she always did in a crisis. She put clean
towels in the bathroom, pushed the table up to the bed, got
a glass of water, straightened the covers, put away the
clothes that the tired woman had left about the room.
Doctor Hertz came. He went through the usual preliminaries,
listened, tapped, counted, straightened up at last.
"Fresh air," he said. "Cold air.
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