Page:Pratt portraits - sketched in a New England suburb (IA prattportraitssk00full).pdf/150

 hand suddenly and turned to the woman standing beside him.

"Do you want Dr. Morse?" he asked.

"If you wouldn't mind," she said, hesitatingly. "I think it would comfort James. He's been fretting about it all day."

"I will go for him."

"Oh, no? Don't leave him," she begged, with a frightened look towards the sick man. "I'll send Willie Anderson next door," and she hurried from the room.

"I suppose that's always the way," thought Anson, ratherly bitterly, yet trying to reassure himself by the reflection. "They lay every thing to the doctor, and I suppose now they're sorry they ever left that old fogy, with his nasty drugs and his bloodlettings, and all his antiquated notions. But he looked from time to time uneasily at his patient.patient." [sic]

It was a miserable situation, and every moment increased Anson's perplexity and distress. He got up and paced the room—for Mrs. Ellery did not return—and tried to cast off the terrible weight of anxiety. Then he paused and looked again at the sufferer. It was no wonder that his heart was lead within him. He was standing face to face with death—not death as he had seen it, coming to release a pilgrim bowed down with years and infirmity, but death, summoning the soul of a man in the prime and vigor of life. He seemed to see the grim spectre defying him, and