that stupid idiot frighten me like that?" Mrs. Donaldson
cried, angrily. "He's got no fever, only a feverish cold through being
out on that moor too long."

"He was wet through, and had to sleep in his wet things. He hadn't
anything dry except that canvas jacket Mrs. Ferguson gave him," Elsie
cried, remorsefully. "I was wet too, but my things seemed to dry
quicker. Do you think that's what made him ill?"

"Of course it is," Mrs. Donaldson replied. "And there's no one here to
see to him, poor child! He wants a good hot bath, and wrapping up in
blankets, but we can't get it here, nor at an hotel."

"Meg says they'd take care of him at the hospital," Elsie eagerly
interposed. "Please let us go there."

"You can't go," Mrs. Donaldson began; but Elsie interrupted her. "I must
go," she said, promptly. "I can't leave Duncan. I wouldn't do that for
anybody. It's through me that he's ill, and I won't go away from him."

"Then you wouldn't like to come to London with me?" Mrs. Donaldson said,
in her most fascinating manner.

"Not without Donald, thank you, ma'am," Elsie replied at once.

"I thought you wanted to find your father," Mrs. Donaldson said, kindly;
"and Donald should come as soon as he is well. For the matter of that, I
would come myself, or send Uncle William to fetch him."

"I couldn't go without him," Elsie doggedly persisted.

Then Mrs. Donaldson grew impatient; her voice was no longer sweet and
persuasive. "I will do nothing more for you," she said, angrily. "You
can give me back the things I brought you, and I will leave you to die
of hunger and cold, as you would have done before this but for me. Get
that child's things on, and you shall go at once to the hospital, and
see what they will do for you."

Elsie did not mind at all about the ungraciousness of the consent, so
long as she had won her purpose.

The prospect of getting to London even was nothing in comparison to the
hope of seeing Duncan nursed and tended back to health. She would
cheerfully have given up the frock and hat that had so pleased her; but
this, it seemed, was only a threat, for Mrs. Donaldson said no more
about it, but went away, and sent Meg to help put on Duncan's things.

"He ain't fit to be dressed, and that's the truth," Meg said
compassionately, as she used her utmost exertions to put the poor
child's clothes on without hurting him. "They'd better have rolled him
in a shawl."

"He'll be all right when we get there," Elsi