"You look like you'd been making a night of it," he said, with a
contemptuous sneer. "Been consoling some wanderer I suppose."
The young woman made no reply, but stood with her back to the door,
her eyes fixed on his face.
"Well, get out of my way," he said roughly; "can't you see I want to
go out?"
Amy spoke--"I have been at the Institution all night. Kate
Cushman and the baby are both dead. Go look at your work."
Frank started as though she had struck him; and then as she stepped
aside, he fairly ran from the house as though in fear of his life.
CHAPTER XXIX
In the little country village of Anderson, where the southern branch
of the "Memphis" joins the main line, a group of excited citizens were
standing in front of the doctor's office. "You're right sure it's
small-pox, are you, Doc?"
"There's no doubt of it," answered the physician.
"Who is he?"
"He won't tell his name, but Jack Lane says it's Frank Goodrich. He
came in day before yesterday on the 'Memphis,' from Boyd City, where
they have just lost a case or two of the worst form."
An angry murmur arose from the little group of men. "What you goin'
to do, Doc?" asked the spokesman.
"I've sent to Pleasantville for that nigger who has had the disease,
and he'll be in as soon as he can get here. We must find some place
out of town for the fellow to stay, and let old Jake take care of him."
Jim Boles spoke up. "Thar's a cabin on my west forty, that's in purty
good shape.
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