like this? Have you been alone? How hard it must have been for you!"
She put out her hand to smooth the bedclothes, and the sick woman grasped it, her own hot with fever, till Betty almost cried out.
"The stock!" she gasped. "I took 'em water till I couldn't get out of bed. How long ago was that? They will die tied up!"
"I fed and watered them," Betty soothed her. "They're all right. Don't worry another minute, I'll make you tidy and get you something to eat and then I'm going for a doctor."
What was there about the woman—Betty stared at her, frowning in an effort to recollect where she had seen her before. If Bob were only here to help her—Bob! Why, the sick woman before her was the living image of Bob Henderson!
"The Saunders place!" Betty clapped her hand to her mouth, anxious not to excite her patient. "Why, of course, this is the farm. And she must be one of Bob's aunts!"
As if in answer to her question, the sick woman half rose in bed.
"Charity!" she stammered, her hands pressed to her aching head. "Charity! She was sick first."
She pointed to an adjoining room and Betty crossed the floor feeling that she was walking
