“We will do what we can,” said Dinah.  “Remember, my children, all that I have bidden you do when approaching a stricken person.  Be not rash, neither be over-much affrighted.  The Lord has preserved me, and methinks He will preserve you, too.”

With that she stepped forward and laid a hand upon the shoulder of the poor woman, who was weeping copiously over her husband, and calling him by every name she could think of, though he lay rigid with half-open eyes and heeded her not.

“Good friend,” said Dinah, in her quiet, commanding fashion, “it is of no avail thus to weep and cry.  We must get your goodman within doors, and tend him there.  See, there is a man with a handcart over yonder.  Go call him, and bid him come to our help.  We must not let your goodman lie out here in the streets in this hot sunshine.”

“God bless you!  God bless you!” cried the poor distracted woman, unspeakably thankful for any help at a time when neighbours and friends were wont alike to flee in terror from any stricken person.  “But alas and woe is me!  Tell me, is this the plague?”

“I fear so,” answered Dinah, who had bent over the smitten man; “but go quickly and do as I have said.  There be some amongst the sick who recover.  Lose not heart at the outset, but trust in God, and do all that thou art bidden.”

The woman ran quickly, and the man, who was indeed one of those forlorn creatures who, for a livelihood, were even willing to scour the streets and remove from thence those that were stricken down by death as they went their way amongst their fellows, came with her at her request, and lifting her husband into his cart, wheeled him away towards a poor alley where lay her home.

As she turned into it she looked at the three women who followed, and said: 

“God have mercy upon us!  I would not have you adventure yourselves here.  There be but three houses in all the street where the distemper has not come, and of those, mine, which was one, must now be shut up.  Lord have mercy upon us indeed, else we be all dead men!”

Dinah paused for a brief moment, and looked at her young charges.

“My children,” she said, “needs must that I go where the need is so great.  But bethink you a moment if ye have strength and wish to follow.  I know not what sad and terrible sights we may have to encounter.  Think ye that ye can bear them?  Have ye the strength to go forward?  If not, I would have you go back ere you have reached the contamination.”

Janet looked at Gertrude, and Gertrude looked at Janet; but though there was great seriousness and awe in their faces, there was no fear.  Gertrude had gone through so much already within the walls of her home that she had no fear greater than that of remaining in helpless idleness there, alone with her own thoughts and memories.  As for Janet, she had much of the nature of her aunt—­much of that eager, intense sympathy and compassion for the sick and suffering which has induced women in all ages to go forth in times of dire need, and risk their lives for their stricken and afflicted brethren.