d her, I'm afraid, doctor, and took all of her
money--a good deal of it. It's about killed the poor child. She was out
of her head a good deal of the night, and now she's got a raging fever."

The doctor and Miss Baker returned to the room and entered, closing the
door. The big doctor stood for a moment looking down at Trina rolling
her head from side to side upon the pillow, her face scarlet, her
enormous mane of hair spread out on either side of her. The little
dressmaker remained at his elbow, looking from him to Trina.

"Poor little woman!" said the doctor; "poor little woman!"

Miss Baker pointed to the trunk, whispering:

"See, there's where she kept her savings. See, he broke the lock."

"Well, Mrs. McTeague," said the doctor, sitting down by the bed, and
taking Trina's wrist, "a little fever, eh?"

Trina opened her eyes and looked at him, and then at Miss Baker. She did
not seem in the least surprised at the unfamiliar faces. She appeared to
consider it all as a matter of course.

"Yes," she said, with a long, tremulous breath, "I have a fever, and my
head--my head aches and aches."

The doctor prescribed rest and mild opiates. Then his eye fell upon the
fingers of Trina's right hand. He looked at them sharply. A deep
red glow, unmistakable to a physician's eyes, was upon some of them,
extending from the finger tips up to the second knuckle.

"Hello," he exclaimed, "what's the matter here?" In fact something was
very wrong indeed. For days Trina had noticed it. The fingers of her
right hand had swollen as never before, aching and discolored. Cruelly
lacerated by McTeague's brutality as they were, she had nevertheless
gone on about her work on the Noah's ark animals, constantly in contact
with the "non-poisonous" paint. She told as much to the doctor in answer
to his questions. He shook his head with an exclamation.

"Why, this is blood-poisoning, you know," he told her; "the worst kind.
You'll have to have those fingers amputated, beyond a doubt, or lose the
entire hand--or even worse."

"And my work!" exclaimed Trina.

CHAPTER 19

One can hold a scrubbing-brush with two good fingers and the stumps
of two others even if both joints of the thumb are gone, but it takes
considerable practice to get used to it.

Trina became a scrub-woman. She had taken council of Selina, and
through her had obtained the position of caretaker in a little memorial
kindergarten over on Pacific Street. Like Polk S