“He do call it the very-o-lord,” Sarah said, “but Mary says it’s the very old devil himself.  She knows, she has had it, and you can’t put down a pin where the cratur didn’t have his claws.  They told the landlord, who was fur puttin’ ’em straight outdoors, but the doctor said the lady must not be moved—­it was sure death to do it.  It was better to keep quiet, and not make a panic.  Nobody need to know it in the house, and their rooms are so far from everybody that nobody would catch it.  So he let ’em stay, and the gentleman takes care of her, and Mary keeps the children in the next room, and carries and brings the things, and keeps away from everybody.  Two of the servants know it, and they’ve had it, and don’t tell, and she said I mustn’t, nor come that side of the house, but I must tell you so that you can leave to-morrow.  The lady is very bad, and nobody takes care of her but Mr. Thornton.  Mary takes things to the door, and leaves them outside where he can get them.”

“What did you call the gentleman?” Miss McDonald asked, her voice faltering and her cheek blanching a little.

“Mr. Thornton, from Cuylerville, a place far in the country,” was the girl’s reply, and then, without waiting to hear more, Miss McDonald darted away, and, going to the office, turned the leaves of the register to the date of ten or eleven days ago, and read with a beating heart and quick coming breath: 

“Guy Thornton, lady, two children, and servant.  Nos. ——­ and ——.”

Yes, it was Guy; there could be no mistake, and in an instant her resolution was taken.  Calling to her maid, she sent for her shawl and hat, and then bidding her follow, walked away in the moonlight.  The previous summer when at Saratoga she had received medical treatment from Dr. Schwartz, whom she knew well and to whose office she directed her steps.  He seemed surprised to see her at that hour, but greeted her cordially and asked when she came to town and what he could do for her.

“Tell me if this is still a safeguard,” she said, baring her beautiful white arm and showing a large round scar.  “Will this insure me against disease?”

The doctor’s face flushed, and he looked uneasily at her as he took her arm in his hand, and, examining the scar closely, said: 

“The points are still distinct.  I should say the vaccination was thorough.”

“But another will be safer.  Have you fresh vaccine?” Daisy asked; and he replied: 

“Yes, some just from a young, healthy heifer.  I never use the adulterated stuff which has been humanized.  How do I know what humors may be lurking in the blood?  Why, some of the fairest, sweetest babies are full of scrofula!”

He was going on further with his discussion, when Daisy, who knew his peculiarities, interrupted him: 

“Never mind the lecture now.  Vaccinate me quick and let me go.”

It was soon done, the doctor saying as he put away his vial: