"
"No nurse," Grey exclaimed. "Have you no nurse for your daughter? Who,
then, takes care of her?"
"I do, with Miss Meredith's help. She is very kind, and occasionally one
of the servants in the hotel stays with us during the night; but I hear
Bessie moving, and I must go. I am so glad that you are here.
Good-morning."
It is needless to say that within two hours' time Grey's room was at
Daisy's disposal, and the proprietor had orders to charge the same to
Mr. Jerrold's account instead of Mrs. McPherson's, while Grey's own
luggage was transported to a little, close, eight-by-twelve apartment,
which smelled worse than old Mrs. Meredith's could possibly have smelled
with all her burnt brimstone and camphor and chloride of lime. The
physician, an Italian, was also interviewed, and a competent nurse
secured and introduced into the sick-room, and when Daisy protested that
she could not meet the expense, Grey said to her:
"Give yourself no uneasiness on that score; that is my business. We
cannot let Bessie die.
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