"
"The best is the safest," replied Dr. Price. "I will send for Dr. Burns,
of Philadelphia, the best surgeon in that line in America. If he can
start at once, he can reach here in sixteen or eighteen hours, and the
case can wait even longer, if inflammation does not set in."
The message was dispatched forthwith. By rare good fortune the eminent
specialist was able to start within an hour or two after the receipt of
Dr. Price's telegram. Meanwhile the baby remained restless and uneasy,
the doctor spending most of his time by its side. Mrs. Carteret, who had
never been quite strong since the child's birth, was a prey to the most
agonizing apprehensions.
Mammy Jane, while not presuming to question the opinion of Dr. Price,
and not wishing to add to her mistress's distress, was secretly
oppressed by forebodings which she was unable to shake off. The child
was born for bad luck. The mole under its ear, just at the point where
the hangman's knot would strike, had foreshadowed dire misfortune. She
had already observed several little things which had rendered her
vaguely anxious.
For instance, upon one occasion, on entering the room where the baby had
been left alone, asleep in his crib, she had met a strange cat hurrying
from the nursery, and, upon examining closely the pillow upon which the
child lay, had found a depression which had undoubtedly been due to the
weight of the cat's body. The child was restless and uneasy, and Jane
had ever since believed that the cat had been sucking little Dodie's
breath, with what might have been fatal results had she not appeared
just in the nick of time.
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