I have prescribed
at once, and give it immediately. It will quiet her system and produce
sleep. If perspiration follows, we shall be on the right side. I will
call in again through the day. If the pain in her side returns, send
for me."

The pain did return, and the doctor was summoned. He feared to strike
his lancet again; but cupped freely over the right side, thus gaining
for the suffering girl a measure of relief. She lay, after this, in a
kind of stupor for some hours. On coming out of this, she no longer had
the lancinating pain in her side with every expansion of the lungs;
but, instead, a dull pain, attended by a cough and tightness of the
chest. The cough was, at first, dry, unsatisfactory, and attended with
anxiety. Then came a tough mucus, a little streaked with blood. The
expectoration soon became freer, and assumed a brownish hue. A low
fever accompanied these bad symptoms.

The case had become complicated with pneumonia, and assumed a very
dangerous type. On the third day a consulting physician was called in.
He noted all the symptoms carefully, and with a seriousness of manner
that did not escape the watchful eyes of Mrs. Grant. He passed but few
words with the attendant physician, and their exact meaning was veiled
by medical terms; but Mrs. Grant understood enough to satisfy her that
little hope of a favorable issue was entertained.

About the time this consultation over the case of Mary Carson was in
progress, it happened that Mrs. Wykoff received another visit from Mrs.
Lowe.

"I've called," said the latter, speaking in the tone of one who felt
annoyed, "to ask where that sewing girl you recommended to me lives?"

"Miss Carson."

"Yes, I believe that is her name."

"Didn't she come on Monday, according to appointment?"

"Oh, yes, she came. But I've seen nothing of her since."

"Ah! Is that so? She may be sick." The voice of Mrs. Wykoff dropped to
a shade of seriousness. "Let me see--Monday--didn't it rain?--Yes, now
I remember; it was a dreadful day. Perhaps she took cold. She's very
delicate. Did she get wet in coming to your house?"

"I'm sure I don't know." There was a slight indication of annoyance on
the part of Mrs. Lowe.

"It was impossible, raining and blowing as it did, for her to escape
wet feet, if not drenched clothing. Was there fire in the room where
she worked?"

"Fire! No. We don't have grates or stoves in any of our rooms."

"Oh; then there was a fire in the heater?"