The work at the hat-shops fell off after the spring orders, and did not
revive till the beginning of August. If there was less money among the
hands and their families who remained than there was in time of full work,
the weather made less demand upon their resources. The children lived
mostly out-of-doors, and seemed to have always what they wanted of the
season's fruit and vegetables. They got these too late from the decaying
lots at the provision stores, and too early from the nearest orchards; and
Dr. Morrell admitted that there was a good deal of sickness, especially
among the little ones, from this diet. Annie wondered whether she ought not
to offer herself as a nurse among them; she asked him whether she could not
be of use in that way, and had to confess that she knew nothing about the
prevailing disease.
"Then, I don't think you'd better undertake it," he said. "There are too
many nurses there already, such as they are. It's the dull time in most of
the shops, you know, and the women have plenty of leisure. There are about
five volunteer nurses for every patient, not counting the grandmothers on
both sides. I think they would resent any outside aid."
"Ah, I'm always on the outside! But can't I send--I mean carry--them
anything nourishing, any little dishes--"
"Arrowroot is about all the convalescents can manage." She made a note of
it. "But jelly and chicken broth are always relished by their friends."
"Dr. Morrell, I must ask you not to turn me into ridicule, if you please. I
cannot permit it."
"I beg your pardon--I do indeed, Miss Kilburn. I didn't mean to ridicule
you. I began seriously, but I was led astray by remembering what becomes of
most of the good things sent to sick people."
"I know," she said, breaking into a laugh. "I have eaten lots of them for
my father. And is arrowroot the only thing?"
The doctor reflected gravely. "Why, no. There's a poor little life now and
then that might be saved by the sea-air. Yes, if you care to send some of
my patients, with a mother and a grandmother apiece, to the seaside--"
"Don't say another word, doctor," cried Annie. "You make me _so_
happy! I will--I will send their whole families. And you won't, you
_won't_ let a case escape, will you, doctor?" It was a break in the
iron wall of uselessness which had closed her in; she behaved like a young
girl with an invitation to a ball.