This seemed a hard saying, and at first I could not credit it. It was terrible to see nothing done, when he evidently suffered so--more and more as the first shock passed and the dreadful fever rose and rose; but while the lung was letting blood and air into the cavity of the chest, which could not be reached to stop the leak, handling of any sort only aggravated the mischief. The doctor explained this to me when I was impatient, and I had to own that he was probably right. He asked me to see about drinks and nourishment, and when I left the room to do so I had a mind to seize the opportunity for a few frantic tears in private, impelled by the pent-up anguish I could not otherwise relieve. But outside the door--Harry's door--I came upon Miss Blount. The little fool was crying herself--as if it were any concern of hers!--and looked a perfect sight with her swelled nose and sodden cheeks. Somehow I couldn't stand it, on the top of all the rest--I just took her by the arm and marched her back to the schoolroom. I hope I was not rough or unkind--I really don't think I was--but to see her you would have thought she was a ridiculous little martyr being led to the stake. I said to her--quite quietly, without making any fuss--"My dear, while you remain in this house--until the notice I have been compelled by our contract to give you has expired--oblige me by keeping in your proper place and confining your attention to your proper business." Just as if I had not spoken--and I am sure she never heard a word--she turned on me at the schoolroom door and clutched at my dress. With both hands she held on to me, so that I really could not get away from her. "Oh, tell me, tell me," she cried, with a lackadaisical whine, as if we were playing melodrama at a cheap theatre, "_What_ does the doctor say? Is he, oh, _is_ he going to die?" I replied--cuttingly, I am afraid--that the doctor seemed perfectly well. There was no sign of dying, that I could see, about him. Then she said "Harry!" Yes, to my very face! As if she had a right to call my son by his christian name. I was greatly exasperated; any mother would have been--especially after what had happened. I answered, "_Mr_. Harry _is_ going to die--_thanks to you_, Miss Blount." I truly believed that he was, and I honestly thought that it was her doing; because if she had not misconducted herself, and tempted him to do so, I should not have had to scold him, and he would not have gone out in a rage, to ride a young horse recklessly. Still, it has occurred to me since that perhaps I was not quite just to her, poor thing.