"Go straight in," he said then. "She is expecting you. Tell her, if
she wants to know, that I am coming directly."
He passed on swiftly with the words, and disappeared into a room close
by.
Very softly Muriel turned the door-handle and entered. Olga's voice
greeted her before she was well in the room. It sounded husky and
strained.
"Muriel! Dear Muriel! I'm so glad you've come. I've wanted you so you
can't think. Where's Nick?"
"He is coming, dearest." Muriel went forward to the bed, and took in
hers the two hands eagerly extended.
The child was lying in an uneasy position, her hair streaming in a
disordered tangle about her flushed face. She was shivering violently
though the hands Muriel held were burning. "You came all through this
awful storm," she whispered. "It was lovely of you, dear. I hope you
weren't frightened."
Muriel sat down beside her. "And you have been left all alone," she
said.
"I didn't mind," gasped Olga. "Mrs. Ellis--that's the cook--was here
at first. But she was such an ass about the thunder that I sent her
away. I expect she's in the coal cellar."
A gleam of fun shone for an instant in her eyes, and was gone. The
fevered hands closed tightly in Muriel's hold. "I feel so ill," she
murmured, "so ill."
"Where is it, darling?" Muriel asked her tenderly.
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