"If the worst comes, Margaret, let me know, and I will go to you, no matter what happens here," said Mrs. Pennybacker, hastily. "But keep up a good courage, my child, and trust in God. 'His arm is not shortened that it cannot save, nor his ear heavy that it cannot hear.'" Mr. De Jarnette stepped into the hall. He knew instinctively that Margaret would not want him here now. When they were in the carriage and Mrs. Pennybacker standing beside it, he turned to Margaret. "I forgot to say that I called Dr. Semple for Philip. If there is any one else you would rather have I should be glad to make the change." Margaret looked disturbed. "I should not want Dr. Semple. He is too young. And besides--" She might have said, "I do not like him or feel easy in his presence," for all this was true, but she finished the sentence--"And besides, I would rather have Dr. Anderson, our own physician." Mr. De Jarnette tucked the robe around Margaret and turned to Mrs. Pennybacker. "Will you telephone Dr. Anderson to come out by the five o'clock train? The carriage will be at the station to meet him. Ask him to come prepared to spend the night if necessary.... No, not in consultation--to take charge of the case. I will make it right with Semple." They were soon out of the city and on the country road leading to Elmhurst. "Drive fast, Rogers," Margaret had said as they started. They made no pretence of keeping up conversation. They were together only for the understood purpose of getting to the child as quickly as possible. After the first few questions and answers they had lapsed into a silence which neither felt inclined to break. Both were busy with their thoughts. Once Margaret, groping blindly for possible causes, said, "You don't know of any way in which he could have been exposed?" "I--I think it must have been the day after--of the egg-rolling," he said. "Probably after he left you." "And Mammy Cely promised so faithfully to look after him," she said reproachfully. "I really think," said Mr. De Jarnette, hesitatingly--he would have given a good slice of his inheritance to have been able to lay the blame upon Mammy Cely, but remembering her insistent faithfulness, and goaded by his conscience, he could not do other than to tell her the truth,--"that if Philip was exposed that day I am the one to blame." Margaret was looking at him with a fixed attention which compelled explanation. "I--I took him with me, against her remonstrances, I feel obliged in common justice to say, to a house where I had business. He begged to go and I could see no reason why he should not. But as it turned out it was most unfortunate. I have reason to think that there was a child in the house recovering from scarlet fever, and in just the condition, Semple tells me, to communicate it." "And there was no card?" she asked in wonder. He hesitated. "They tell me there was a card. But I will have to acknowledge that I did not see it."