"'I wish you to come at once, and bring some clean linen and clothes for the poor thing, who is in a pitiful condition, and quite unconscious. Let Calista come with you. It is possible her voice may rouse Miss Stanfield. Only for Cassius and Tom we should never have succeeded.'" "You must have some refreshment, Mr. Edgar," said Mrs. Fabian, always considerate. "Will you take some breakfast? Miranda, give Mr. Edgar some breakfast. Put on your bonnet, Calista. I will quickly get together what is needed." With such a perfect housekeeper as Mrs. Fabian, it was the work of a few minutes to collect a basket of clean linen, tea, and sugar, and whatever a sick person would be likely to need. They called for Aunt Betsy, but she had already "caught a ride" with Dr. Elsmore, and when they arrived at the Stanfield mansion, she met them at the door. "I'm glad you've come. Did thee bring some clean linen, Maria Fabian? Yes, I see: trust thee to think of everything. Doctor says she has been drugged with something, though he doesn't know what, and that washing her and changing her clothes will be as likely to rouse her as anything. Calista, thee 'd better stay down here till we get her fixed a little." "No, no, let her come up," said the doctor. "Miss Stanfield may notice her niece's voice." "Oh yes, do," said Calista. And in a moment she had run up the well-remembered stairs, and was bending over her aunt, kissing her and speaking words of love and tenderness into her ear. But there was no voice, nor any that answered. Priscilla lay on her bed, her eyes half open and dull as a dead person's. Her night-dress and bed-clothes looked as if they had not been changed for weeks. Some dry remnants of bread and a tumbler of sour milk stood near her on a little table. She was terribly emaciated, and was hardly to be recognized by those who had seen her a few weeks before. "She looks starved," whispered Calista. "I fear she is starved, and worse," answered the doctor, gravely. "But, now, if you know of a room near by which can be comfortably fitted up, you may set about it, while Miss Betsy and Aunt Sally get her washed and her clothes changed." "We had better take Miss Druett's room, I think," said Calista, to Mrs. Fabian, as they stood in the entry. "The bed is tolerably good, and it is the only one, except mine, which has been used since I came to the house." "And where was yours?" "Up in the attic," answered Calista. "This is Miss Druett's room," she continued, opening the door as she spoke. "It does not seem to have been disturbed. Here are all the seals just as Mr. Fabian put them on. I wonder they did not break open the drawers." "Very likely some superstition restrained them," said Mrs. Fabian. "It was a sad day for your poor aunt when Miss Druett died." "Yes, she was the only person who had any influence with her. Shall I open all the windows? It seems very close."