It was an unhappy beginning of the new year. The lonely, wearisome railway journey full of apprehension, the regrets for the good times that the day was to have afforded, the fears for what might be looked for in the future, all these brought a nervous, overwrought girl to Marshville.
As she stepped from the train she looked around for some one to give her news of Miss Rindy, and, to her relief, saw Dr. Rowe, who came up at once. “Well, Ellen,” was his greeting, “I was watching for you. Come right with me; my car is waiting.”
“Cousin Rindy, tell me, Doctor, what has happened to her?”
“Nothing that she won’t recover from, although it makes it pretty bad for the present She fell and broke her hip yesterday morning.”
“She is at home of course. Who is with her?”
“It seemed best that she should go to the hospital, in fact she insisted upon it,—said she couldn’t afford trained nurses and all that. I took her myself.”
“But hospitals cost a lot.”
“Sometimes they do and sometimes they don’t.” The doctor was non-committal. “I am going to take you there now. Rindy wants to see you, I know. I sent the telegram in her name, though she didn’t want to have it sent at all; said she didn’t want to break up your visit.”
“That’s just like her; she never thinks of herself. Will she have to stay at the hospital for a long time?”
“That depends. I told her not to be troubled about you, for you can stay with us. Caro is entranced at the thought. I shall be going over to the hospital every day and can take you along, for she will want to see you that often.”