"I've been to supper," she added; "and Molly, tell Morton when he goes
to the store, to-night, that I'd like him to do an errand at Mrs.
Searle's for me, on the way. Just hand me a sheet of paper and a pen,
dear."
"Won't it do in the morning, Sara? You look so tired!"
"No, to-morrow's Sunday, you know, and this is something that must be
attended to before anything happens."
She took the writing materials from Molly, and wrote the explanation and
request in regard to Bertha, then folding it with a listless gesture,
handed it to her sister.
"Don't let him forget--it's important," she said wearily. "Molly, I'm
_so_ cold, can't I have another blanket?"
Molly brought it and ran down with the note.
"Don't stay late, Morton," she urged in a worried tone; "if Sara ever
was sick, I should say she was going to be now."
CHAPTER XX.
WEAKNESS.
Molly was confirmed in her surmise; for in an hour Sara was in a burning
fever, and there was little sleep in the house that night. To have
_Sara_ ill was unprecedented--almost unbearable--and the whole
household was visibly affected by it. Morton's face settled into a
gravity which nothing could move, and Molly's dimpled visage had never
looked so long and care-full.
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