“Don’t worry. Lots of people recover from
smallpox if they’re properly nursed, and you'll be
that, for I'll see to it. Charles has gone for the doctor, and we'll know when he comes. You must go
straight to bed.”
She took off her hat and shawl, and hung them up. She felt as much at home as if she had never been away. She had got back to her kingdom, and there was none to dispute it with her. When Dr. Spencer and old Giles Blewett, who had had smallpox in his youth, came, two hours later, they found Eunice in serene charge. The house was in order and reeking with disinfectants. Victoria’s fine furniture and fixings were being bundled out of the parlor. There was no bedroom downstairs, and, if Christopher was going to be ill, he must be installed there.
The doctor looked grave.
“I don’t like it,” he said, “but I’m not quite sure yet. If it is smallpox the eruption will probably be out by the morning. I must admit he has most of the symptoms. Will you have him taken to the hospital?”
“No,” said Eunice, decisively, “I'll nurse him myself. I’m not afraid and I’m well and strong.”
The doctor nodded.
“Very well. You've been vaccinated lately?”
“Yes.”
