“He will live,” he said, and with the words Bob felt as though the weight of a thousand tons had been lifted from his heart. “For a while it was a case of touch or go, but you got him out just in time. Two minutes more and it would have been too late. All he needs now is rest and good nursing, and he’ll be as well as ever in a couple of weeks.”
At the same moment Mr. Layton opened his eyes and looked around. His gaze was vague and uncertain at first, but as his eyes fell upon Bob they lighted up with a smile of recognition, and he tried to reach out his hand to him. But he was too weak, and the hand fell helplessly at his side. In a moment Bob was kneeling beside him and patting his hand.
“Dad, Dad,” he cried. “Thank God!” And then because his heart was too full he could say no more.
Dr. Ellis also announced that Thompson was out of danger, and the patients were lifted into the ambulance and conveyed to their respective homes.
The week that followed was a trying one for Bob and his mother. The latter was assiduous at the bedside of her husband, who, although steadily recovering, mended slowly. Bob, apart from his anxiety over his father’s condition, found a great deal of responsibility placed on his shoulders. The store had to be repaired and put in order for carrying on the business. Insurance also had to be attended to, and a host of other details forced themselves upon his attention. Fortunately the head clerk, a Mr. Trent, who had been absent at the time of the accident, was an expert pharmacist and a good manager; so that, after the first few days, business had been resumed and was going on as usual. Still, Bob was heavily taxed with matters that were comparatively new to him. He rose to the occasion, however, in a way that made his father proud of him.
“You’re my right hand, Bob,” his father said to him one day, as he sat by his bedside. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve carried on affairs as though you were an old hand at the business. It’s too bad that all this had to be shoved on you so suddenly, but you’ve stood the test nobly.”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” replied Bob, making light of the matter, though his father’s praise was sweet to him. “All you’ve got to do is to get well and nothing else matters.”
“I’ve been trying to figure out how the thing happened,” mused his father, “but to save my life I can’t understand it. All I was conscious of was a terrific noise and a shock as though I had been hit on the head by a triphammer. Then everything went black and I knew nothing more until I saw you standing beside me on the sidewalk.”
“Don’t excite yourself by trying to remember,” replied Bob soothingly. “The important thing is that you’re alive. All the rest is nothing.”
Bob’s chums had also felt an anxiety only second to his own. They were full of sympathy and showed it by doing everything they could to help him and lighten the load that he was carrying. All the spare time they had they spent with him at his home or at the store. The calamity had served to cement the ties that bound the friends together.