"If it was me that was doin' it," said Sarah, "I'd send for the

doctor."

"Well, but," Maggie protested, "she might be mad."

"If it was me, I'd let her be mad."

"Well, then, why don't you?" Maggie retorted.

"Send for him?" Sarah said airily impersonal. "Oh, it's none of my

business."

"Did you even it to her?" Maggie asked in a worried way.

"I did. I says, 'You're sick, Mrs. Richie,' I says.--She looked like

she was dead--'Won't I tell George to run down and ask Dr. King to

come up?' I says." "An" what did she say?" Maggie asked absently. She

knew what Mrs. Richie had said, because this was the fourth time she

and Sarah had gone over it.

"'No,' she says, 'I don't want the doctor. There's nothing the

matter.' And she like death! An' I says, 'Will you see Mr. Pryor,

ma'am, before he goes?' And she says, 'No,' she says; 'tell Mr. Pryor

that I ain't feelin' very well.' An' I closed the shutters again, an'

come down-stairs. But if it was me, I'd send for Dr. King. If she

ain't well enough to see her own brother--and him just as kind!"--

Sarah put her hand into the bosom of her dress for a dollar bill--

"Look at that! And you had one, too, though he's hardly ever set eyes

on you, If she ain't well enough to see him, she's pretty sick."

"Well," said Maggie, angrily, "I guess I earned my dollar as much as

you. Where would his dinner be without me? That's always the way. The

cook ain't seen, so she gets left out."

"You ain't got left out this time, anyhow. He's a kind man; I've

always said so. And she said she wasn't well enough to see him! Well;

if it was me's I'd send for Dr. King."

So the two women wrangled, each fearful of responsibility; until at

last, after Maggie had twice gone up-stairs and listened at that

silent door, they made up their minds.

"David," Maggie said, "you go and wait at the gate, and when the

butcher's cart comes along, you tell him you want on. An' you go down

street, an' tell him you want off at Dr. King's. An' you ask Dr. King

to come right along up here. Tell him Mrs. Richie's real sick."

"If it was me, I'd let him wait till he goes to school," Sarah began

to hesitate; "she'll be mad."




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