The doctor had told him the mischief done to her lungs was serious.
"I won't say she will ultimately die of consumption," he had said,
"but there is always a danger of that vile disease in these nasty
cases. And little Miss Judy is such a wild, unquiet subject;
she seems to be always in a perfect fever of living, and to possess
a capacity for joy and unhappiness quite unknown to slower natures.
Take care of her, Woolcot, and she'll make a fine woman some day--ay,
a grand woman."
The Captain smoked four big cigars in the solitude of his study
before he could decide how he could best "take care of her."
At first he thought he would send her with Meg and the governess to
the mountains for a time, but then there was the difficulty about
lessons for the other three. He might send them to school, or
engage a governess certainly, but then again there was expense to be
considered.
It was out of the question for the girls to go alone, for Meg had
shown herself nothing but a silly little goose, in spite of her
sixteen years; and Judy needed attention. Then he remembered
Esther, too, was, looking unwell; the nursing and the General
together had been too much for her, and she looked quite a shadow of
her bright self.
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