"'No,' she says, 'I don't want the doctor. There's nothing the
matter.' And she like death! An' I says, 'Will you see Mr. Pryor,
ma'am, before he goes?' And she says, 'No,' she says; 'tell Mr. Pryor
that I ain't feelin' very well.' An' I closed the shutters again, an'
come down-stairs. But if it was me, I'd send for Dr. King. If she
ain't well enough to see her own brother--and him just as kind!"--
Sarah put her hand into the bosom of her dress for a dollar bill--
"Look at that! And you had one, too, though he's hardly ever set eyes
on you, If she ain't well enough to see him, she's pretty sick."
"Well," said Maggie, angrily, "I guess I earned my dollar as much as
you. Where would his dinner be without me? That's always the way. The
cook ain't seen, so she gets left out."
"You ain't got left out this time, anyhow. He's a kind man; I've
always said so. And she said she wasn't well enough to see him! Well;
if it was me's I'd send for Dr. King."
So the two women wrangled, each fearful of responsibility; until at
last, after Maggie had twice gone up-stairs and listened at that
silent door, they made up their minds.
"David," Maggie said, "you go and wait at the gate, and when the
butcher's cart comes along, you tell him you want on. An' you go down
street, an' tell him you want off at Dr. King's. An' you ask Dr. King
to come right along up here. Tell him Mrs.
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