"
Sooner than she would have believed possible Doctor Harris appeared: he
came in his own gig, the little driver who had been so active in the
events of the evening vanishing entirely from the scene, and, as it was
afterward remembered, in the confusion without his douceur.
Doctor Harris, a comparatively young man, was cheerful and reassuring.
"There will probably be no recurrence of the convulsions," he said,
examining the child, who was sleeping tranquilly in the young girl's
arms; "but what was the exciting cause? what has he been eating?"
"I find him with a grand heap of the raisins and the nuts," replied the
French tutor excitedly. "Madame goes to town this morning and takes la
bonne pour s'en servir--le pauvre enfant est abandonne, voila tout!"
Gesticulating with much vehemence, he sat down at the conclusion as if
exhausted by his efforts.
"What has been done for the child?" asked the physician in a cautious
whisper.
The little Frenchman rose; his eyes flashed; he waved his fat, short
arms toward Miss Featherstone: "Cette chere mademoiselle, she is one
angel from the sky: she do it all," with increased animation and
violence--"ice for his head, hot water for his feet.
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