A tall, fine-looking young fellow in civilian attire had captured two of the balls one afternoon and was flying at his most vigorous speed for another. Primrose had paused for a moment while her brother stopped to chaff a companion. The ball rolled swiftly along, and from some slight inequality in the ice deflected. The arm was outstretched to catch it, and she could not quite remember afterward whether she had stooped, but he came against her with sufficient force to knock her over. He caught the ball and held it up in triumph, with a joyous hurrah, and then turned to see what the oath and the exclamation meant.
"Good Heavens! you have killed her, you brute!" Captain Nevitt cried angrily.
"I was under such headway and I had no thought the ball would go in that direction. Let us see at once. Is she unconscious? Dr. Shippen is here. I passed him not ten seconds ago. I will find him."
Nevitt took Primrose in his arms, limp and white as a lily. There was a little circle about them, but the others went on with their gayety. A fall was no such uncommon thing.
Dr. Shippen had been out for a little exercise, and withal had some curiosity to see the mad carnival that had broken out in the staid city.
"Ah, it is Madam Wetherill's little girl!" looking sharply at Nevitt.
"I thought I had seen the child somewhere," said the young man who had caused the accident. "Can we not take her home at once?"
"I am her brother," was Nevitt's stiff reply. "You have done enough mischief with your awkwardness. I hope your silly victory repays you. Let me pass, with no further parley on your part."
"What do you think, Dr. Shippen?"
"It is a faint, of course. Whether she is more severely injured I cannot tell. Let us take her home, for she will be chilled through, and I have an errand in Second Street."