“Oh, Ann, don’t say that!” cried Ruth, as she and the sick girl appeared at the mill door.  “No! don’t come near us.  I’ll carry the lantern myself and lead Amy.  She’s not feeling well, but she can walk.  We must get her to Mrs. Smith’s just as soon as possible and call a doctor.”

“What’s the matter with her?” demanded Curly, curiously.

“She feels bad.  That’s enough,” said Ruth, shortly.  “Come on, Amy.”

For once Amy Gregg was glad to accept Ruth Fielding’s help.  She had no idea what Ruth thought was the matter with her, and she stumbled on beside the older girl, sleepy and ill, given up to utter misery.  Curly and Ann began to be suspicious when Ruth forbade them to approach Amy and herself.

“Old Scratch!” whispered the boy to the Western girl.  “I bet Amy’s got small-pox or something.  Ruth Fielding will catch it, too.”

“Hush!” exclaimed Ann, fiercely.  “It’s not as bad as that.”

It was a long walk to Mrs. Sadoc Smith’s.  At the last, Ruth almost carried Amy, who was not a particularly small girl.  Curly grabbed the lantern and insisted upon walking close to them.

“No matter if I do catch the epizootic; guess I’ll get over it,” said the boy.

They finally came to the Smith house.  Helen and Mrs. Sadoc Smith came out on the porch when the dog barked.  Ruth made Ann and Curly go ahead and held back with the sick girl.

“You go right upstairs with Helen, Ann,” commanded Ruth.  “I want to talk to Mrs. Smith about Amy.  She must be put in a warm room downstairs.”

Mrs. Sadoc Smith agreed to this proposal the instant she saw Amy’s flushed face and heard her muttering.

“You telephone for Doctor Lambert, Henry,” commanded Mrs. Smith.  “We’ll have him give a look at her—­though I could dose her myself, I reckon, and bring her out all right.”

Ruth feared the worst.  She secretly stuck to her first diagnosis that Amy had scarlet fever, but she did not say this to Mrs. Smith.  They put Amy to bed between blankets, and Mrs. Smith succeeded in getting the girl to drink a dose of hot tea.

“That’ll start her perspiring, which won’t do a bit of harm,” she said to Ruth.  “But I never saw anybody’s face so red before—­and her hands and arms, too.  She’s breaking all out, I do declare.”

Ruth was thinking:  “If they have to quarantine Amy, I’ll be quarantined with her.  I’ll have to nurse her instead of going to school.  Poor little thing! she will require somebody’s constant attention.

“But, oh dear!” added the girl of the Red Mill, “what will become of my school work?  I’ll never be able to graduate in the world.  Lucky those moving pictures are taken—­I won’t be needed any more in those.  Oh, dear!”

Ruth did not allow a murmur to escape her lips, however.  She insisted on remaining by the patient all night, too.  Mrs. Smith was not able to quiet the sick girl as well as Ruth did when the delirium Amy developed became wilder.