“What is it? Tell me!” she asked eagerly.
“It's Mr. Howard, my dear,” said the other; and Helen frowned.
“Oh, bother!” she cried; “what about him?”
“He's been ill during the night,” replied Aunt Polly.
“Ill!” exclaimed Helen. “Dear me, what a nuisance!”
“Poor man,” said the other, deprecatingly; “he cannot help it.”
“Yes,” exclaimed Helen, “but he ought not to be here. What is the matter with him?”
“I don't know,” was the reply, “but he has been suffering so all night that the doctor has had to give him an opiate.”
The wan countenance of Mr. Howard rose up before Helen just then, and she shuddered inwardly.
“Dear me, what a state of affairs!” she exclaimed. “It seems to me as if I were to have nothing but fright and worry. Why should there be such things in the world?”