as lifting his cap when a
fisherman rushed up to him.

"Ye're wanted ter Atkins'," said the man. "They is a child there as is
awful sick. They brung 'un over from Edward's Bay, this mornin', an' th'
mother she be prayin' fer ye to come."

"All right," he answered. "Sammy, bring my bag up with you and I'll hurry
up at once."

He only smiled at me, in his pleasant way, for he rushed by me, running
up the rough path in great strides, and of course I could only go back to
our house, where I sat with Daddy on the porch.

From where I sat I could see Atkins' house. It is only a little way from
us, up the hill. There were a number of people assembled in front of it,
because whenever any one is hurt or very ill they are apt to gather
around, as people do sometimes in New York before a house where an
ambulance has stopped. Then I saw the doctor sprinting out towards
Sammy's house, whence he returned carrying another bag. Of course I have
several times helped him a little, in the last month, when Mrs. Barnett
didn't get in ahead of me, so I rose.

"I am going up to Atkins'," I told Dad. "I wonder what is the matter. I
shall only be gone a few minutes."

So I ran away, bare-headed, and rushed to the place, but before I reached
it Mrs. Barnett arrived there, all out of breath.

When I passed through the waiting people I heard Dr. Grant's voice, and
he spoke very angrily. I had never thought before that he could get quite
so mad. There was a swarm of women in the house, some of them with babies
in their arms, and a few children, among whom was Frenchy's little boy,
had also slipped in.

"Get out of here!" he was shouting, roughly. "All of you but the child's
mother and Mrs. Atkins. Haven't I told you it is dangerous? Do you want
to spread this thing about and kill off all your children? And you, Mrs.
Barnett, must give the example. I won't have you running chances with
those babies of yours. Do get out, like a dear woman, and chevy these
other ones out with you."

He was bustling them all out like a lot of hens, in his effective,
energetic way, and then he saw me.

"I want you to get out too, Miss Jelliffe," he ordered me. "This is a bad
case of diphtheria. The child is choking and I must relieve it at once."

I took a few steps back, rather resentfully, because I had never been
spoken to in that way before, and I thought it very rude of him, but I
did not leave the place. The doctor was very busy with some instruments