"Only three of us this morning, 'stead of ten," Ada remarked sadly.
"Well, we'll hope the others will all be back soon;" said Rupert, longing to comfort and cheer his mother.
His head ached and chills were creeping down his back, but he said nothing about it, drank his coffee, forced himself to eat a little, and presently declaring himself done, put on his hat and hurried away on his errand.
It was now a fortnight since Annis had been taken ill and not a drop of rain had fallen yet. The nights and mornings were chilly and damp, then the sun rose and shone all day with a fierce, burning heat that scorched everything it touched; and day by day the fever had found new victims till every physician's hands were full to overflowing.
"How chilly it is!" thought Rupert, as he hastened down the path to the gate, "but it'll be hot enough presently," he added, looking up at the sky; "not a cloud to be seen, and the sun will be glaring down on us as fiercely as ever. I think if there isn't some change soon we'll all sicken and die."
He walked on up the street. Doors and windows were closed; scarcely any one seemed astir.
"They're sleeping late," he thought "Well who can blame them? they're either sick themselves or worn out taking care of the sick."
He came first to the hotel. Mrs. Prior was very busy getting breakfast, but stepped to the door to hear his message.
"I'm dreadful sorry;" she said, "and I'll call round, tell your mother, just as soon as I can; but I've half a dozen boarders down with the fever, and only one girl; the rest's all gone off to 'tend to their own folks; for the fever's bad all round in the country; and between them and the town folks the doctors is goin' night and day."
"I don't see how you can come at all then, Mrs. Prior," Rupert said, "I should think your hands must be more than full here at home."
"I'll come if I can, you may depend," she answered, "for I think a sight of your mother."
The boy sighed heavily as he turned and went on his way. How much of the brightness seemed to have gone out of life just then.
Dr. Grange's house was a few steps further on. An old lady, the doctor's mother, answered his knock.
"The doctor is in bed and asleep just now," she said. "He has had very little rest for the last three weeks, was up all night out in the country, and came home with a heavy chill. And the rest of the family are all down with the fever except myself and little five year old Ellen."
"What are we coming to!" exclaimed the lad.
"I don't know," she answered: "but God is our refuge and strength; a very present help in trouble!'"
"I do not know what to do," said Rupert, looking sadly perplexed and anxious; "mother says my father and Cyril are both very ill."
"I will tell the doctor when he wakes, and perhaps he will be able to go down. It would hardly be worth while to send you for another, for they're all equally busy."
"Thank you," he said, "we would not like to have to try another," and bidding her good morning, he went on his way to the Squire's.
Mrs. Chetwood put on her bonnet at once and went with him.
"Claudina would come too," she said, "but two of the boys are sick, and I'm afraid she is taking the fever herself."
"It seems as if everybody is taking it," said Rupert. "Mrs. Chetwood, is it often so sickly here?"
"Never was known to be quite so bad before," she answered; "they say the oldest inhabitant doesn't remember such a time. Do you notice how quiet and empty the streets are?"
"Yes, ma'am; people seem to be very late in getting up. The stores are all shut up still."
"There's no business doing at all," she returned, "and people are not up because they're ill; too ill, most of them, to leave their beds.
"There are not many houses in town where more than one or two are able to crawl about to help themselves or wait on the sick.
"And Dr. Grange tells me it is just as bad in the country. The harvest is uncommonly fine, but there's nobody to gather it in; there are loads of wild berries ripe on the bushes, but nobody able to pick them.
"Emmaretta Lightcap died yesterday; I was there last night and helped to lay her out. All the rest of the family are in bed with the fever, except poor Gotobed and his mother.
"Oh, it's a sorrowful time! Effie and one or two of the little ones are sick at Mr. Prescott's, and in the next house not one of the family is able to be out of bed."
Mr. Keith was quite as ill as his wife feared.
She devoted herself principally to him, while Mrs. Chetwood and Mildred together nursed the others.
Rupert had had a chill and fever followed in due season; but he managed to keep up and to conceal his illness from all but Celestia Ann, who did the best she could for him.
Mrs. Prior came in for an hour in the after noon, and taking Mildred's place enabled her to lie down for a little greatly needed rest and sleep.
Mrs. Chetwood spent the day and night with them, but then went home to return no more, her own family being no longer able to dispense with her care and nursing.
Zillah was slightly better that morning, but Mr. Keith, Cyril and Don were all delirious and so evidently in danger that the hearts of mother and sister were very heavy.
Mrs. Keith scarcely left her husband's bed side except occasionally to pass into the next room and bend for a moment over her little boys, to take Annis or Fan in her arms to caress, and reluctantly put them down again, and to whisper a word of hope and encouragement to Mildred, the other little girls and Rupert.
Celestia Ann had full sway in the kitchen, and with genuine kindness of heart took charge of the rest of the house, so far as she could, and prepared delicacies for the sick.
She was a great help in looking after the convalescing, had always a cheery word ready for the weary, anxious nurses, and in short proved herself invaluable in this great emergency.
What then was their distress and despair when they found they must lose her.
Glancing from the window on the morning of the second day after that which Mrs. Chetwood had spent with them, Mildred saw a countryman passing round toward the kitchen, and in a moment after his voice and Celestia Ann's could be heard in earnest colloquy, the latter interrupted by heavy sobs.
Then she appeared at the door of the nursery with her apron to her eyes and silently beckoned to Mildred.
"What is it?" the latter asked going to her.
"Why my brother's come to fetch me home, and I'll have to go, bad as I hate to leave you; for if I do say it that shouldn't, I don't see how you're agoin' to git along without me."
"Nor I," said Mildred, aghast. "O, Celestia Ann, must you go?"
"Yes; can't help it; for they're all down with the fever, 'cept mother (and she's poorly) and this brother that's come after me; and he's got a chill on him now. So I'll have to pick up my duds and
