Betty Gordon in the Land of Oil by Alice B. Emerson

Author:Alice B. Emerson [Emerson, Alice B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, History
ISBN: 9781172828494
Publisher: epubBooks (www.epubbooks.com)
Published: 1920-03-11T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XIV

TWO INVALIDS

Betty, for a single wild instant, had an impulse to slam the door shut and gallop off the place on Clover. She was all alone, and miles from help of any sort, no matter what happened. Then, as another groan sounded, she bravely made up her mind to investigate. Some one was evidently sick and in pain; that explained the state of affairs at the barns. Could she, Betty Gordon, run away and leave a sick person without attempting to find out what was needed?

It must be confessed that it took a great deal of courage to pull open the grained oak door that led from the kitchen and behind which the groans were sounding with monotonous regularity, but the girl set her teeth, and opened it softly. In the semi–darkness she was able to make out the dim outlines of a bed set between the two windows and a swirl of bedclothes, some of which were dragging on the floor.

"I'm just Betty," she quavered uncertainly, for though the groans had stopped no one spoke. "I heard you groaning. Are you sick, and is there anything I can do for you?"

"Sick," murmured a woman's voice. "So sick!"

At the sound of utter weariness and pain, Betty's fear left her and all the tenderness and passionate desire for service that had made her such a wonderful little "hand" with ill and fretful babies in her old home at Pineville came to take its place.

"I'll have to put the shades up," she explained, stepping lightly to the windows and pulling up the green shades. "Then I can see to make you more comfortable."

She spoke clearly and yet not loudly, knowing that a sick person hates whispering.

The afternoon sunlight streamed into the room, revealing a clean though most sparsely furnished bedroom. A rag rug on the floor, two chairs, a washstand and mirror and the bed were the only articles of furniture.

Betty, after one swift glance, turned toward the occupant of the bed. She saw a woman apparently about sixty years old, with mild blue eyes, now glazed by fever, and tangled gray hair. As Betty watched her a terrible fit of coughing shook her.

"You must have a doctor!" said Betty decidedly, wondering what there was about the woman that seemed familiar. "How long have you been 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

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